A Sword of the Starks
by Greenboy1
Summary: What if Queen Cersei and King Robert had a legitimate child? And if Ned had had another son? And if by some chance they fall in love? But when war and politics threaten this love, what will they do to stop the deaths of those they love. (Rated M for violence, language, and suggestive themes)
1. Chapter 1

**The Sword of the Starks**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe but PLEASE write the next book soon._

In this story, Ned Stark and Catelyn Stark had a son, Nicholas. He was born after Robb and Jon and before Sansa. King Robert and Queen Cersei had a daughter, Emma, after Joffrey and before Myrcella. Emma has black hair, as opposed to the golden hair of the rest of his children. The ages of characters will align with HBO TV series while the names will be ASOIAF (The books).

 **Ages**

Robb Jon- 17 years old

Nicholas Joffrey - 16 years old

Emma - 15 years old

Sansa - 13 years old

Myrcellla - 12 years old

Arya - 11 years old

Bran Tommen - 10 years old

Rickon - 6 years old

 **Warning! Spoilers!**

 _(Though nothing major for a few chapters)_

 **Chapter 1**

Nicholas stood on the battlements of the outer wall of Winterfell. A horn had just been blown - the lookouts had spotted the Baratheon caravan. Brandon had also seen them, as Nick could hear his mother scolding him for climbing. She was always so scared about Bran, or any of them, falling or being hurt in any way. The King's party was still far away, yet it would take time to gather everyone.

Walking down the steps, Nicholas looked around, trying to find Arya. Already Sansa, Robb, and Rickon were in the yard. Bran had just ran off to fetch their father. Lady Catelyn was looking for Arya as well, and having little luck about it. Jon may have been looking for her as well, but it didn't matter now as the call was going out for the gate to be raised. As the King's caravan began to come through the gate, Nick got in line with the rest of his family. Eddard and Bran came around the corner, quickly moving their way through the crowd of peasants that had formed up behind the Stark family. Nick spotted Arya off to the side, trying to hide in a helmet. He glared at her, trying to get her attention until she looked over their way. Catching her eye, he beckoned her over to them. As she dashed over, she dropped her helmet in the back of a nearby cart and lined up next to Sansa. Looking around the yard, Nick spotted Jon and Theon a bit behind them, out of sight and mind of their visitors.

Watching as the head of the party entered the castle, Nick spotted the head of the column. In rode four men, three surrounding one in a triangle. Behind them came a company of men, around 20 of them, followed by large ornamental carriage. And after them came even more men, nearly a hundred of them. The group at the front rode up, positioning themselves in front of the Starks. The rider in the front, Ser Jaime Lannister, broke off and rode over to carriage. The Lannister footmen formed up to the side of the walls, five ranks of twenty men each. As they cleared the pathway into the castle, in rode a few dozen men, most likely scouting around the army in order to spot any attackers. Behind them came nearly five hundred men, all standing outside of the castle gates. Behind them Nick could spot several dezen more horsemen.

In front of them, a young lad ran up and put a set of stairs in front of them, at the feet of the King. With great effort, he hoisted himself off of the horse and walked down the steps, stopping in front of the Starks. Everyone kneeled in front of the King, the Starks in front first and each row of people behind them in order. The King looked down on Ned Stark, telling him with his hand movement to stand up. As Nick's father stood up, first the Starks and then the rows of people behind them stood up.

"You've got fat," The King said, looking at Ned. Behind him Nicholas could see Sers Meryn Trant and Boros Blount dismounting, walking up behind the King to defend him in case of any attack. Eddard looked down at the King's belly, nodding, as if to say, 'And you haven't?'

The entire crowd held their breath, wondering how the King would react to such a slight. A few tense moments passed. Both Eddard and King Robert had serious looks on their face. Suddenly, an outbreak of laughter went out between the two men who were as close as brothers and they hugged, patting each other on the back. Both of them backed away, laughing, both glad to see each other once more as it had been years since they had seen each other.

King Robert walked up and down the row of Starks, acknowledging each in turn. The crowd was beginning to thin out, and this was not lost on the Usurper King.

"Come Ned, let us visit the crypts." Robert said, addressing Ned.

"Surely that can wait," Queen Cersei said, sneaking up behind the group. "It has been a long trip, and I and the children would gladly rest in our chambers."

"Quiet, women," Said the King. "If riding North on a bunch of pillows on wheels tires you so much, I'm sure that Nicholas here could escort you to appropriate accommodations," The King gestured to Nick, who was standing closest to him. It was a moment before Nick registered the King's request, and a moment later before he responded after receiving a reassuring look from his father.

"I would be honored, your grace," Nick said, snapping to attention, drawing his gaze away from the eldest princess. She had captured his gaze the moment that she had walked down the steps of the carriage, clearly annoyed with the fact that she had been confined for days in such conditions, not being able to see the northern countryside. "If you would follow me, I will show you to proper accommodations."

As they walked towards the Great Hall, Nick attempted to make small talk with the Royal Family. The Queen obviously didn't want to talk, and the two youngest were looking around at the large castle, big to their young eyes. Yet the oldest daughter made good conversation, amazed by vastness of the North compared to the small number of people whom they had seen. Behind them came Ser Jaime and Ser Meryn, guarding the family.

They reached the Hall and had the doors opened for them by two Stark guardsmen. They reached the end of the Hall and went through the back doors, leading them up the stairs and through the twisting pathways to a hallway full of doors. He directed the Queen to the largest room and she was immediately followed by the Kingslayer. He showed the rest to their rooms, placing the youngest closest to the Queen's room and the eldest the farthest from them. As he showed Emma to her room, he spotted a bruise on the side of her head, under her ear. It was a rough mark, like someone had hit her. He had already put Joffrey in his room, along with all the others.

"My lady, are you alright? That mark…" He said, gesturing to the bruise.

She stepped into her room, promptly shutting the door after giving a mumbled reply.

Walking back down the hallway, Nick debated it over in his head. He knew that he probably shouldn't press the matter any further, for fear of driving her away. And were he to press the matter with the King, well, that might not go over all too well if it was the King who hit her. It does no good to meddle in the affairs of Kings. But if someone were abusing the princess…..

"M'lord. M'lord. M'lord!" It took several calls from the servant boy to rouse Nick from his thoughts. Startled to attention, he realized he nearly ran into the poor lad. "Where should I put the Family's things?"

Nick apologized to the lad, and pointed the young boy to the rooms, telling him where each one of the royals were staying. He pointed out that it was probably best to leave the King and Queen's things outside of their room.

Walking down the steps, he walked out into the courtyard and towards the Hunter's Gate and called out, "Night, Arlī!", The High Valyrian word for back. And out of the shadows of the Wolfswood, a great large black beast, twice the size of a normal direwolf, came bounding out. It came running towards him and stopped at his feet, dropping two dead rabbits at his feet. The fur was nearly unbroken, with teeth holes only around their necks.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Sword of the Starks**

 **Chapter 2**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._ Nick walked through the yard, his direwolf walking along on his left side and the two dead rabbits swinging in his hand on his right. His sword hung on his left hip, a bastard sword to be wielded with a shield or without one. It did not matter. He was a good swordsman either way.

He walked to the kitchens first, dropping off the rabbits to be cooked for the night's feast. The first time he caught prey and dropped it off to them, the cooks had tried to pay him for the prey. He refused, insisting so much that eventually he had payed the cooks to get them to shut up. The sum had seemed like a small one to him at the time, but to them it was a small fortune. Ever since then he had had a good relationship with them, always dropping the catch of the day off to them first, letting them take what they wanted.

In the yard his father walked up to him, asking to talk. He could see from the look on his face that this was serious business that was not to be joked about.

"What is it, Father?" Nick asked, curious what this could be about. He knew that recently Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, had died. The King and father were like brothers, and Jon Arryn had been a second father to the two of them. Winterfell was rather far north for a social call, so logic decreed that the visit must be for filling that position. Whom better than your brother?

"I have been offered the position of Hand of the King," Ned said. 'I was right!' Nick thought, 'but what could this have to do with me?' " I am bringing Sansa and Arya south with me. Sansa will be looking for a suitor, one that can lead to a fruitful marriage. Arya, well, Arya needs to become more lady-like, or at least learn how to fake it. I need you to come with us because….well…., because you have betrothed to Lady Emma."

"Father! I am not you oldest son though." Nick said, outraged by the betrothal. He had always thought that he, as the second son, would marry for love, and not for any form of politics. "Robb is older, and Sansa could wed Joffrey!"

"Yes, the King and I have thought of this. But Sansa has yet to come of age, and you are closer in age to Lady Emma than Robb. True, he is my eldest son, yet you are more skilled with a sword. Lady Emma will require a skilled guardian as she is the oldest daughter of the King. Yes, there is the Kingsguard, but you have proven to rival the best swordsmen that I have seen. I doubt that Meryn Trant could properly defend the King, much less the princess. And while I have no doubt that she may learn to defend herself, you are naturally good at swordfighting."

"Fine." Grumbled Nick, annoyed by the fact that the Lord of Winterfell's logic made actual sense. "Has my future wife been informed of our betrothal? Or have I been blessed with that task?"

"She has been informed." Said Ned, smiling. "She actually was asked about the marriage. And Robert and I asked her whether she would wed you or Robb, named after the King. She chose you."

With this packet of information dropped in his lap, Eddard walked away, a small smile twisting at the corners of his mouth. Nick stood there, stunned. He thought back, thinking of earlier that morning when he had shown the Royal Family to their rooms. Nick was the only one, her out of everyone in WInterfell, who had asked her about her bruise. He was the only one who cared about her, to ask about her well-being. Of course, that may be attributed to the fact that her hair covered the mark and he only saw it because she was removing her "winter" cloak. Still…. She chose him. Then again, Robb wasn't nearly as good looking Nick was (Or at least that's what he told himself).

As Nick stood there, thinking it over in his head, it started snowing. He looked around, realizing that it had been a few minutes. As his eyes passed over the doors to the Great Hall, they went on by. But they snapped back the moment that he spotted Lady Emma walking out. Flanked by half a dozen Lannister guardsmen, she walked over to him.

"Leave us." Emma said, a small grin on her face. Her blue eyes were filled with mystery, and worked well with her grin.

"I'm sorry, your highness, but the Queen's orders," The head guardsmen spoke, staring straight ahead blankly. "You are not to be left alone."

"Honestly, men, if I wished to harm her grace, half a dozen of you would make no difference." Nick said, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I have beat every swordsman in Winterfell, and I am eager for my stell to taste Westerlands blood. Now, your princess gave you an order. I suggest you follow it."

The soldier looked from princess to prince, his brown eyes meeting their grey and blue. A moment passed, and the sergeant turned around and had his men march away. As Nick watched them go, he looked up and spotted the Queen in one of the windows. He had the feeling that he would not be seeing that sargent for some time.

"You didn't have to do that," Emma said, blushing and looking down at her feet. Looking up, she met his eyes. Leaning forward, she was just inches from his face when she began to speak. "Thank you."

" For what?" Nick asked, puzzled. "I haven't done much other than allow us to speak in private. We are still being watched by your mother."

"Well, walk with me then." Emma said, holding out her arm for Nick to take. Reaching out and looping their arms together, they walked around the corner and out of the sight of the all-seeing Queen. Stopping once they were outside of her mother's sight, Emma stopped walking. She turned and looked Nick in the eyes, before moving in closer and kissing him. They held the kiss for a few moments, before she pulled back away. He noted how beautiful she looked in the setting sun, with dusk setting down across the castle. He leaned in and kissed her again, this time kissing her. She kissed back. In a time that seemed like several hours yet was only a few seconds, they broke off the kiss once more.

"Thank you," Emma said, smiling at him. "Thank you for caring about my well-being. No one else spotted my wound and cared enough to ask about it."

"You are welcome, my princess." Nick said. "It is getting late. I should show you to your room."

They walked around the tower that they had gone behind. Coming back around, they both were laughing quietly at nothing, as they were trying to seem not suspicious. He walked her all the way back to the Great Hall and into her room. After checking to make sure no one was looking, he kissed her good-night and walked back to his own room. It wasn't until late that night when he awoke to the sound of screaming and ran down the hall to the source, throwing open her door only to find Joffrey standing over top of Emma with a bloody knife in hand and Emma with cuts across her arm and face.

 _Hey guys, how do you like the story so far? I have big plans for this series. Also, this story is now my main priority. I kind of lost interest in the other two. Sorry to any fans of the others. I will try and update the others, but this one is taking the driver's seat. I like this one more because I can have more free reign with my O.C.s, where I don't have to conform to a set plot most of the time._


	3. Chapter 3

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Warning! Spoilers!**

(Nothing major yet, but still - read with caution)

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Author's Note: Hey guys. I hope you like this chapter. I also wanted to ask you guys something. I know (Spoiler) that Bran gets paralyzed by his fall from the tower. I want to ask you guys what you think about him not being paralyzed. Also appologies if the formatting is a bit odd. I'm typing it up on a computer than publishing it from my phone. As always, feedback and criticism is appreciated! Enjoy!_

He stood there, shock driving deep into his heart. He could hear a door being thrown open down the hall. But that didn't register with him at the time.

"Angogon!" Nick yelled. From his side his jet-black, huge direwolf dashed forward and wrapped his jaws around the leg of the young lord. He didn't bite hard, as there wasn't a sudden spurt of blood shooting out from him. But the wolf used enough force to cause the prince to drop the knife and fall backwards, toppling to the ground. Joffrey screamed in pain, false tears streaming down his face. The door behind Nicholas was shoved open and in ran Ser Meryn Trant, with his belt in hand and sword in the other. He had no armor, and was wearing a simple tunic. And the sword must have been a joke. It was ornamental, with the grip and handguard made of gold and the edge of the blade dulled so much that it couldn't cut a piece of meat, nevermind an enemy's skin or armor. The moment the golden knight entered the room, Night, the direwolf, let go of the young prince's leg and went on all fours in front of the princess, growling at the prince and knight.

"Tell that wolf to back down or I'll cut it's fuckin' head off," Trant said, dropping the belt and scabbard, putting himself between the prince and the direwolf. While at first he seemed to be brave enough to fight the wolf, he visibly began to sweat, eyes flickering between the wolf and it's master. "Tell it to back off!"

Nick looked at the direwolf, and the direwolf looked back. It then stopped growling, sitting down on it's hind legs and started licking the small blood that was on his teeth off, eventually stopping and just sitting there, looking at his master for orders. Down the hall, more doors were being thrown open. The King walked into the doorway, angry that he was being awoken this late in the night.

"What the bloody 'ell is going in here?" Robert said, addressing the room of people. He had clearly just been woken up and was mad. Behind him Nick could see people gathering. Queen Cersei was standing behind him and Ser Jaime behind her. Myrcella was next to them yet Tommen was nowhere to be seen. Then again, he was quite short and was most likely behind someone. And then there was The Dwarf, Tyrion Lannister, who for his short statute could consume a surprising large amount of alcohol. He was pushing his way through the the small crowd, trying to understand what was happening. Nick began to speak, trying to explain what happened. But he was quickly cut off by the crying, weakened prince.

"The wolf!" Joffrey cried, pulling the leg of his pants up. The wolf had bit him below the knee, just above the ankle. It wasn't a deep bite, just enough to scare the prince and cause him to drop the knife. "It bit me, probably broke my leg! Ah, I've been crippled for life! How will I ever walk again? AH, the pain, the pain!"

"I heard the yelling, as I imagine the rest of you did. That is what woke your grace, I assume?" Nick asked the King. Receiving a nod from the King, he continued. "When I heard the screaming, it woke me from my slumber. I threw open my door and ran down the hall to the room that was the source. Lady Emma's door was already open and I looked in, seeing Joffrey here with a knife standing over Emma." With this Nick pointed to the bloody knife on the ground. He continued to explain what it was he saw, and how he had had his direwolf pull the prince off of Emma.

"Well, it is a serious thing to accuse the future King." Said Robert, looking at NIck. He held the knife, looking at the blood upon it. "Is there anyone that could collaborate your story?"

With this, both Nick and King Robert looked at Emma. She was still lying on the ground, bleeding from multiple cuts across her arms and face. Emma looked back at them, holding a rather deep cut on her shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Yes, all he says is true." Emma said after a few moments, during which Nick could only think that she spent thinking over her answer. On one hand, Nicholas was her future husband. One the other was the future King. It would not be wise to piss off the KIng, as he would be the future ruler of the seven kingdoms. But eventually, the man who she would be living with for the foreseeable future won out. She would most likely move after their marriage to live in Nick's home, far away in the north from the distant capital. There Joffrey wouldn't live with them. "Joffrey attacked me. He cut me multiple times, and that's just today. He….he has hit me before. But today was the first time he has cut me - hurt me seriously."

"Lies!" Joffrey screamed, anger raging across his face. "All lies! She-She made it up! Lies!"

"Ah, shut up you." King Robert said. "Nicholas, take Emma to the Maester. I will have...words with my son."

King Robert grabbed Joffrey by the shoulder, forcing him to his feet. He dragged him off, back into the King's chambers and slammed the door shut. While this is happening, Nick helped Emma to her feet, grabbing a spare blanket from the end of her bed. He wrapped her in it, put his arm around her shoulder, and walked her out of the room. She was limping, so as they walked she put her arm around him, using him for support. Behind them came the direwolf, patting along at his back. The small amount of blood he had drawn from the prince was all gone, not a drop left, all wiped away by the massive hound's tongue.

A few minutes later they arrived at their destination. Upon entering, they found the Maester already awake, most likely by the racket. He had Emma sit down and patched up her wounds. They made small talk, talking about how she liked the north. It was much colder in the north rather than in the warm south.

Most of the wounds were shallow cuts, and most likely wouldn't scar. Except for the cut on her left arm, above her elbow near her shoulder. It didn't take long. Shortly after she was finished getting patched up, Nick and Emma walked back to her room. She stood in the entrance to the room, looking inside.

"Nicholas?" Emma asked, staying in the entrance and turning around to look at him. "Do you think that I could sleep with you tonight?" As soon as she said it, her face went red, blushing. She immediately looked down at her feet, mortified at what she said. "I-I mean...next to you..not…." She stopped talking, her sentence trailing off into silence.

Nick smiled, putting his hand underneath her chin, gently pushing her head upward to look him in the eyes. Smiling at her, he said, "Of course. Also, please call me Nick. Only my mother calls me Nicholas and then only when I'm in trouble."

"Alright, Nick" She said, leaning in and giving him a small kiss on the lips. Pulling back, she began to speak again. " I'll be a minute. I'm going to go change into my nightclothes and grab a few things that I'll need for the morning. I'll meet you in your room."

Nick quietly walked back to his room, a smile on his face. Opening the door, he looked at what a mess his room was. Quickly he picked up the few books that were scattered about on the floor and stacked them neatly on his desk. He made his bed, tucking the edges of the wool blanket of the sides of the bed. He took out a spare blanket, putting it down at the end of the bed. He checked the chamber pot, making sure that it was empty. Finally, he heard a quiet knock at the door. Dashing over, he opened the door to let Emma inside.

She stood in the doorway, looking beautiful. He stepped out of the way of the door, allowing her access to the room. She set her things for the morning on his desk, pushing some paper and quills aside. As she walked into the room, he closed the door behind her.

A few awkward moments passed as Emma looked around the room, taking in her new surroundings. Finally, the two of them climbed into bed and settled in among the sheets. As they lay there looking at each other, Nick leaned over to her and kissed her, holding the kiss for as long as he could before he needed to come up for air.

"Nick," Emma asked, as they parted for air.

"Yes, my lady?" Nick responded, looking her in the eyes, his grey eyes clashing with her blue.

"Do you always wear a shirt when you sleep?" Emma asked, flicking her eyes down to his chest and back up to his face. "Or is that just for my benefit?"

"Well, I normally don't," Nick responded, chuckling quietly. "But I thought that with a lady such as yourself, nevermind the eldest daughter of the King, it would be in my best interests to keep it on."

"Well," Emma said, reaching over to him and pulling at the edge of his shirt, eventually pulling it off of him entirely. She then moved over, resting her head against his bare chest. "I don't care. If my father cares that much, I'll take the blame."

And with that, Emma fell asleep, her head pressed against his chest, her hair lying out behind her. Nick wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head goodnight. There was a smile on his face as he fell asleep with a beautiful women in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Sword of the Starks**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Warning! Spoilers!**

 _(Nothing Major - Read At Your Own Risk (RAYOR))_

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._ _Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry about the short chapter. I had most of it written out so I quickly finished it up to this. I want to leave the next scene for the next chapter. Anyway, I want your guys's opinions about Bran. Paralyzed or not? I want to know your opinions. Anyway, as always, comment with your, well, comments and criticisms._

Nick's room isn't a large room, by any means. There is a two-person bed, bookshelves, and a desk. The desk had adequate storage space for quills and paper, wax and seals, and spare candles. But most of bookshelves were empty, or near so, as he had not had time to fill them with his own books. He had several major books, ones on the history of Westeros and Essos and others on their lords, ladies, and people. He intended to travel the world, to collect his own library of books from his travels.

At the end of the guest hallway, his room sits. He sleeps in the room that is the intersection of a T, with a hallway leading to a staircase on one side and the lords and ladies of Winterfell's rooms on the other side. Down the hall straight out his front door are the guest rooms. Emma's room was the closest to his, and Joffrey's across from her's.

In his room, there is only one window. And while this may seem to be bad, the view can see for miles, out across the northern side of Winterfell. While the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, the sun shines some light through the window. Enough to make the harsh awakening of sunlight seem like a nice romantic morning.

And that's what Nick and Emma had. Despite the rude awakening in the middle of the night, Nick awoke early. He always did. No matter what time it was at night when he went to sleep, he always seemed to wake up around when the sun did, full of energy, ready to start the day. And today was no different. Nick woke up right on time. But today, this morning, something was different. It took him a minute to remember to previous events of last night, of why the third in line to the throne of the Seven Kingdoms was laying in his arms.

Once he remembered, he lay there for a time watching his future wife sleep. She was beautiful as she slept. Her chest moving up and down as breathed, in and out. Her hair, falling over top of her body, covering her like a silk blanket. Her oh-so-kissable lips, parting with each breath, letting out…..drool. He smiled, finding such a thing lovely about his bride-to-be. She was raised, as were most noble ladies, to be perfect in all aspects. And it was a thing like this that showed that despite all the extravagance of the lords and ladies live's, such a small thing could still exist, and make her even more beautiful in his eyes.

He reached his hand around Emma, for it had been resting across her side. Pulling it around, he reached up and wiped the spit off of her mouth. Emma stirred, shifting around in his arms. Slowly, Emma's eyes opened, blinking the sleepiness out of her eyes. She stretched out her arms, stretching herself out more and pushing against Nick's body. Bringing her arms down, she put them behind Nick's head and pulled him closer to her. His hands went down to her waist, pulling her even closer to him. Their heads were close to one another, barely an inch apart. Leaning in, Nick kissed her, holding the kiss for as long as he could. Pulling back apart, he looked deep into her eyes.

"Emma, what are we doing?" Nick asked her. "We barely know each other. We only met a few days ago."

"So?" Emma responded. "So what if we barely know each other? We are destined to marry each other, by our parent's will. So if we are going to have to get married later, why not fall in love now? Our parents are going to expect heirs, so let's fall in love. Let's give them a good upbringing, with two parents that love each other?"

"Alright," Nick said, nodding, smiling. "Let's fall in love."

Emma smiled at Nick, kissing him. For a few minutes, they laid there in bed, waking up, only focusing on each other's warmth, their life with each other.

"You know," Nick said, breaking the silence. "We should probably get up soon. Neither of our parents know about this. If one of them is looking for us, then, well….I think we may get in trouble for this."

"You think?" Emma said, chuckling to herself. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'm going to go and get changed. Turn around, ok?"

"Sure," Nick said, grinning as Emma got out of bed and turned her back to him. "One thing first."

Getting up out of bed quietly, Nick snuck up behind Emma and quickly wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up in the air. Emma cried out, surprised and giddy with happiness. Holding Emma in the air, he turned her around in the air and kissed her, pulling her closer to him. She kissed him back, deepening the kiss and wrapping her legs around him. They stayed there for a few minutes, making out, kissing. After a few minutes Nick loosened his grip around her, allowing for her to unwind her legs and slide back down onto the ground. Finally Nick pulled away, still holding her in a hug. They untwined from each other, pulling apart.

"Well," Emma said, panting. "That was…..wow."

"Hey, you said to fall in love," Nick said, smiling at her. "Now come on. Let's get dressed."

With this Emma and Nick turned around and got dressed. After they finished Nick looked outside his room, making sure that no one was in the hallway. After the all clear, he and Emma snuck out of his room and made their way down to the Great Hall, to break their fast. Once they got down there, Nick spotted both Robb and Jon down there. They made small talk, discussing the events of the previous night and what was happening in the Kingdom. It wasn't until much later that day when Emma and Nick were going for a walk when they heard a loud thump from the direction of an old, half-destroyed tower. Going over to investigate, they found young Brandon Stark, Nicholas's younger brother, lying at the foot of the tower unconscious, and unresponsive.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Warning! Spoilers!**

 _(RAYOR)_

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Not much to say. Just as always, leave a comment with comments, criticism, or whatever you want. Hope you like the story. :)_

Nick sat there in a chair at the end of Bran's bed, staring blankly at a spot on the wall above Bran's head. Their mother, Lady Catelyn Stark, sat across from him on the other side of the bed. She was making some thing for the Seven, some form of a prayer for health or saving. It had been two days since Bran had fallen, and his condition had not improved at all. The maesters were still debating whether or not he would walk again. The Maester was optimistic about Bran's survival, but was Nick knew little of the ways of medicine and had no experience other than knowing how to patch up cuts and bruises from battle he had gained from a small scuffle with outlaws.

He had visited Bran every day since the fall. Of all his siblings, Bran was his closest. He hated seeing him like this. Jon had yet to stop by, but not without reason. His relationship with Lady Catelyn had been strained at best, understandably. Jon was Eddard's bastard son. Suddenly, the door was opened up. Jon walked in.

"What are you doing here?" Lady Catelyn said, her voice trembling with annoyance. Jon looked from Nick to Catelyn, seeking some form of support.

"Two things," Jon said, in fear of what would happen should he piss off a grieving mother. "The first regards Nicholas. Lord Stark wishes to have you gather your things as you will be leaving shortly for King's Landing." Jon's eyes flicked over to Lady Catelyn, clearly trying to stop any more misgivings between the two of them.

"Alright," Nick said, standing up. He walked over to Bran, rubbing the top of his head. "I'll see you when I get back, little brother."

With this, Nick excused himself from the room, heading for his own room. With a push, he opened the door and entered, closing the door behind him. Consumed in his own thoughts, Nick didn't realize there was already another person in the room. He looked up and saw the back of a naked women with long black hair falling down her back.

"Oh my," Nick said, turning around and covering his hands with his eyes. "Um….Emma? What are you doing?"

"Oh shit!" Emma said, grabbing a sheet off of the bed and wrapping it around herself. "You can turn around now. But seriously, why didn't you knock?!?!?"

"It's my room, Emma. If you needed privacy, lock it!" Nick said, turning around and removing his hands from his eyes. "Do you need anything?"

"Oh, right. Umm….well, I heard we were moving out soon," Emma said, blushing. She looked up at Nick clearly debating something over in her head. "I….I wanted to ride on horseback, outside of that accursed carriage. I was kind of looking for riding clothes to wear."

"Ok. Well. Those are not riding pants, those are to be worn under armor," Nick said, chuckling to himself. "And anyway, it wouldn't matter even if you found the right set of pants. Mine are styled much different than any that you . The Master of Horse of Winterfell can set you up with proper clothing, if that is what you desire."

"Oh," Emma said, looking down at her feet. "Well, now I feel a bit embarrassed."

"Get dressed, back in your dress," He said, gesturing to the yellow and red dress lying out on his bed. Emma started to protest, but went quiet when Nick raised his hand up. "Then, we'll head down to Hullen and see if he has any riding gear for you."

"Alright," Emma said. "Fine. But step out of the room, I'm going to get changed."

Nick smiled, stepping out of the room. He stood there for a few minutes, waiting for Emma to get finished changing. Hearing the door open behind him, he turned around, looking at Emma.

Together they walked down to the courtyard. People were already beginning to gather, as they were leaving later that day. Nick led Emma, already new to the castle, to Hullen. The castle looked so much more different with all the people running around like little ants. Reaching Hullen, Nick asked about riding clothes. A few minutes later, he produced a set of clothes for Emma. As they walked back to the Great Hall, they ran into the Queen.

"What are you doing with those?" Queen Cersei said, glaring at them, Nick in particular. He suspected she knew something of their sleeping arrangements. "Care to explain?"

"Well," Emma said, stepping forward in front of Nick, cutting him off from speaking. "I asked Father. He said that during the trip back down to King's Landing, I could ride on horseback with Nick."

"Hmm. I'll speak to him on this," She said, walking by them, towards her carriage. Nick caught something she mumbled as she walked away. "Should he grace us with his presence, the drunken oaf."

"Come on," Emma said, taking Nick by the hand and dragging him through the doors into the Great Hall. They ran up the stairs into the guest hallway, stopping when she spotted her father at the other end of the passage. "Stay here."

Handing Nick the riding clothes she dashed down the hall, running up to her father. They spoke for a few minutes, and they then walked down the hall. The King passed by Nick, heading down the stairs.

"What was that about?" Nick asked as Emma stopped in front of him.

"Asking my father whether I can ride with you on horseback during the trip," Emma smiled at Nick, kissed him on the check, took the clothes, and turned around, walking into her room and shutting the door behind her.

Nick smiled, laughing to himself quietly. He walked down the hall, entering his room. He packed a few things he would need during the trip to the capital. He had three swords, one on his hip and two packed in his bags. Two were normal swords, to be used in fighting. The one on his hip was the sharpest he had and was the only one he had killed a man with. The fight had been a quick one, and the man could barely be considered a proper foe. He was a starved wildling, one of seven, that had attack his hunting party. He had disarmed one man, hesitating with the kill. In the time it took for him to think it over in his head, the man had drawn a knife. He nearly stabbed Nick, but took a spear through the neck from a nearby guard. The second man Nick disarmed, he did not hesitate. He still remembered the look of the fresh blood upon his blade.

The third sword was a dull blade, a practice sword. He had trained with it for years, ever since he had been nine. He had been given the dull, steel blade in place of his wooden one he had broken on his "combatant's" shield. He still could recall the fierce sound to his young ears of the splitting of the wood and the other guy's screams as a shard of wood went through his leg. Theon had been fine, but he still had the scar.

His clothes had been packed for days, all ready to go. He put a few small things in there, such as paper and ink for letters to send north to his mother and siblings. All packed up, he lifted up the chest and carried it down to the cart where the Stark family's things would go. He walked back upstairs, knocking on Emma's door.

"Enter," Emma called out. "The door is open."

"Hey," Nick said, pushing the door open. "Need help with anything?"

"Yeah," Emma said, standing up and turning around to face Nick. She moved forward, leaning in and kissing him. They held the kiss for a few seconds, before the need to breath took over and she pulled back. "Do you mind moving my things for me? It's a bit heavy for me carry."

Nick nodded, walking over to the chest. Picking it up, he carried it down to the yard. This time one of the servants ran over, trying to take the crate. Nick brushed him off, asking where it should be placed. Putting it down where it was supposed to go, he walked back over to Emma and led her over to the stables. They got their horses saddled up by a couple of stableboys and both mounted up, getting ready to leave. He watched as Eddard mounted up, and Sansa and Arya climbed into their carriage. The group was getting ready to go.

A few days later they were riding down the Kingsroad, having just left Moat Cailin a few hours ago. Suddenly there was the sound of yelling, and out of the woods next to Nick came a group of twenty men, armed with spears and bows. Before he had time to respond, the closest archer put an arrow into his leg and the closest spearman put his spear through the chest of his horse.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Warning! Spoilers!**

 _(RAYOR)_

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Author's Note: This chapter will mostly be fighting. If that's not your type of thing, don't read. Thank you to all who have commented with criticism, comments, or thoughts regarding the series so far. If you need advice, don't hesitate to message me. If there is anything you guys would like to see in the future of this series, I'd like to know what that is. Also I will be needing character names for the future, so if anyone wants a specific name in the story, comment with one. As always, thanks for reading! Enjoy this next chapter of **The Sword of The Starks**!_

Nick remembered little of the fight for days after it happened. But over time, the details returned, and this is what he remembered.

The spear pierced through the horse, missing Nick. Grunting in pain, he lept forward off of the falling horse, pushing against the stirrups. Hitting the ground, landed on his feet and drew his sword from it's scabbard. Reaching for his right side, his left hand pulled out a dagger out of it's sheath. Reaching down, he cut the shaft of the arrow of, leaving the tip in his leg. If it were barbed, tearing it out would be a bad idea on the field of battle.

"Emma!" Nick yelled out, twirling around and facing the enemy who had taken down his horse. He could see behind the man one of the other enemies advancing on her, knife in hand. "I don't have time for this," He muttered as the spearman advanced upon him. He dashed forward, straight at the spear. At the last second he darted to the side and, using the sword, slammed it down and cut the point of the spear off. Before the bandit could reach for a knife, Nick slammed into him, pinning his arm against his chest. He drove the dagger into the bandit's throat, blood flowing out over his hand. Seeing another man advancing, he tore the dagger out of the side of the man's throat, spraying blood all over the face of the second man and nearly decapitating the first one. As the second man tried to wipe the blood out of his face, Nick charged forward and slashed his sword over the man's chest, spraying blood out over the both of them. Turning around, he advanced upon the man threatening his future wife.

Nick knew that there were archers behind him, arrows nocked. But he also knew that there were other soldiers with them. As if to prove his point, the Lannister man driving the carriage grabbed a loaded crossbow and fired a bolt, which found it's target with a sickening crunch. Later, Nick found that man among the dead with two arrows in his chest. Several men ran around from the other side of the cart, weapons in hand, wearing armor.

As it turns out, Nick's lady love could handle herself quite well. As the man got close enough to threaten her, she drew a long dagger and stabbed the man in the chest multiple times. But there was a second man, advancing on her from behind. Before Nick could say a thing, though, his direwolf lunged on the man, grabbing him in the back of the neck and crunching down, sending blood sprouting everywhere. As soon as the man was dead, Night let go, dropping the dead man to the ground. From there he dashed off towards the archers.

"Emma," Nick said, running over towards her. He looked over her, checking to make sure she was unharmed. "You need to dismount and get into the carriage. No," Nick said, stopping her from interrupting him. "No arguments. Get in there. Now."

Emma dismounted, running up the ladder into the carriage. As she turned around, looking down at Nick and yelling a command at the horse. As it moved out of the way, a spear thudded against the Nick's side. Nick moved out of the way the moment the pain registered, but not quick enough. The point was stone though, and didn't have the power that an iron point would have. It barely cut through the little armor he had on. As he pulled himself to the side he twirled his blades around. The first slash cut across the man's eyes, putting out the man's eyes. The second blow from his sword cut through the man's neck, cutting his head off in a spurt of blood. As the man's body fell to the ground, a second man advanced from behind the dead body with a wooden club in hand. Using both hands, he swung it down at Nick's head. Using the dagger, he blocked the club, digging the blade into the wood. With the sword, he drew it back and swung it from the side. It cut the man's arm off at the elbow and into his side. He grunted, letting go of the club. He pulled the dagger out of the club and put his foot on the man's chest, pushing off and knocking the man over, pulling his sword out of the man at the same time.

Looking up from the dead men, he watched as his wolf tore archer after archer apart. Soon there were only three left. All had nocked arrows aimed at the Lannister and Stark troops standing around them. One of the archer's aimed at him, loosing an arrow that found it's mark in Nick's shoulder. Grunting, he slammed back against the wall of the stopped carriage. Reaching up, he broke off the shaft of the arrow. Reaching down, he grabbed a dead man's spear, picking it up and throwing it. It sailed true, plunging straight through the chest of the archer, sending him to the ground, dead. This distracted the archers enough for them to look away, losing the target they had been aiming at. One of the soldiers lunged forwards, driving the sword through the man's gut. The other man was killed when Night lunged forward, grabbing him by the throat and ripping it out.

And as fast as the battle started, it was over. All twenty of the attackers lay dead or wounded, along with four of their own men. Along with their four dead, six men, including Nick, had been wounded in the fight. For days, Nick thought why the bandits had attacked. There were over five hundred men in the column, with over a hundred outriders scouting around the army. But he later learned that they had become far to stretched out. The rear guard and scouts had left late, most likely due to drunk commanders.

Later the night of the fight, Nick was lying down in a cart with Emma. They were still days from the closest town and the maester traveling with them had ordered Nick to rest in the cart, keeping off of his leg for as much as possible. He had a few pillows stacked underneath his head, keeping him comfortable. Emma had flat out refused to leave his side, falling asleep that night using his chest as a pillow. That night Nick lay there, looking up at the stars with Emma sleeping on his chest. His direwolf was curled up on his other side, next to his right leg, head resting on top of his knee. Emma lay on his left side, her head on his chest. Their hands were joined together, one pair of to the side and the other pair on his chest.

"Mmmm," Emma moaned, her eyes slowly opening and looking up at Nick. "Good Morning."

"Well," Nick said, leaning down and kissing Emma on the lips, holding the kiss for a few moments. "You're a bit wrong. Still night time, lover."

"Oh," Emma said, looking up sleepily at the sky. She turned her head back to face Nick, kissing him again. "How are you feeling? How's the leg?"

"It's fine," Nick responded, kissing her again. "It's my side that hurts more. How about you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Emma said, kissing him back again. "I wasn't the one cut and shot twice. What about your shoulder?"

"Only hurts when I move," Nick said, kissing her once more. Pulling away, he reached around, still holding her hand, pulling the woolen blanket back up overtop of them. "Now come on, we should get back to sleep. We've got a long road ahead of us."

With this, Nick leaned down, kissing Emma once more as they fell asleep beneath the stars.


	7. Chapter 6 Part 2

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 6 Part 2**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._ _Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry for the long time since the last update. Working on something so I needed to put something out. As always, enjoy!_

Nick sat on horseback, watching as the nearby holdfast came into view. Their column was long, moving slowly due to the large wheelhouse following in their wake. The Queen was inside, along with Tommen and Myrcella. Joffrey was riding on horseback, alongside of the wheelhouse. Nick and Emma were further ahead, closer to the holdfast under the rule of Ser Raymun Darry. He welcomed them to his home, however unwelcome they were. Ser Raymun had fought in Robert's Rebellion under the Targaryen banner, and his three older brothers had died at the Battle of the Trident fighting for Prince Rhaegar. This fact was not lost upon the King, or the Hand. They came close to gate, passing into the grounds. The knights in their party would be staying behind the walls, but the freeriders and footmen would be remaining outside of the walls. Nick rode in, Emma by his side. He turned his horse around, facing the entrance to the gate. He whistled, as his voice would be lost in the fall of the feet of horses and men. The direwolf bounded out of the woods, startling nearby soldiers and horses. He turned back, catching up his intended and falling in next her. They trotted over to the stables, dismounting. Nick smiled, taking her hand and helping her down. He led her to the hall, as she was in need of food and refreshment.

They were welcomed grudgingly, spotting the King already drinking at the head of the table. Emma and Nick both took bread and salt, and other bits of food with it. After having their full, Nick bowed to the King and departed, going for a walk with Emma. They were walking through the woods, hand in hand, making their way along the riverside. They heard the sounds of wood clacking, grunts up ahead. They looked at each other, curious of what was going on. Nick called out, "Arlī," calling Night to his side. From there the three walked towards a clearing, with the river running alongside it. He peeked through the bushes, seeing Arya and a young lad dueling. Nick stepped through the bushes, parting the branches for Emma and surprising the youths. Arya dropped her stick, receiving a smack on the shoulder from her foe. The boy, seeing what she saw, threw down the broom handle and widened his eyes. "She asked me to, m'lord! She asked me to!"

Smiling, Nick walked over and picked up the two sticks, tossing them to his sister and her friend. He walked over, picking up a good-sized stick from the forest ground. "It's no matter. But your guard was low. Anyone who knew what they were doing could have easily broken past you." He showed the lad the proper way to wield the blade, helping him and Arya learn. Emma joined them, and Nick was showing them the way that he had been taught. He knew that Arya and Emma were ladies in a noble court, but it was necessary for them to know how to defend themselves. And he knew that Jon had given Arya a sword, modeled after the Braavosi fashion.

"What do we have here?" A cold voice called out, a hint of laughter present. Turning, Nick spotted the young prince Joffrey standing in the clearing. As he turned around, he blocked blows from the three people behind him, before smacking each of their wrists in turn and forcing them to drop their staffs. He spotted Sansa standing next to Joffrey, holding a wineskin. Spirits would make anyone filled with courage, however false it was. Joffrey walked over, and Nick reached behind himself and pushed Emma over, behind him. The prince had a sword drawn, and mocked the lad Arya was with. He pushed closer to him, pressing the blade of the sword against his cheek and drawing blood. Arya lashed forwards, telling him off and shoving him. The prince stumbled, growled at her, a fierce, primitive, sound, and swung the sword wildly at her. Nick's sword hadn't even cleared its scabbard when the blade flew across his face, leaving a thin trail of blood across the bridge of his nose. The blood swelled, spilling over into Nick's eyes and down his face. The sharp sword had just missed his eyes, leaving Nick filled with anger. He tore his sword out, pointing it straight at the young prince. The prince swung again, but Nick was prepared this time. He smashed the swinging sword with his own, knocking off to the side, before he swished his sword across the prince's shoulder lightly, barely cutting the fabric. Still, it made a small gash and left the prince pale and mad. Sansa was screaming at them, saying that they were ruining it. Nick had no idea of what she meant, as the prince had started this affair. Joffrey made a cut wildly overhand before Arya stepped in, slamming his wrists with her broomstick and sending the sword to the ground. She picked up the blade and threw it away, keeping it far from the prince who had no clue how to use it. Apparently, a small group of soldiers had been following the prince and ran into the clearing, swords drawn. Nick looked them over, confident in his ability to defeat them. Most of them were older than him, and veterans of the rebellion. But they backed away when two direwolves stalked out of the tree line, growling and standing in front of Nick and the group.

Calmly, Nick sheathed his sword and held out his hand. Night sat down, silent, yet teeth still bared. Arya took Nymeria and quieted her, grabbing her by a loose collar around her neck. They were at somewhat of a standstill, neither party speaking, until a horseman rode out of the tree line. The presence of half the royal children and all the Stark ones had been noted, and the King sat there on the horse. He looked down at the small group, seeing the blood dripping down Nick's nose and the small dash on the prince's arm. Without saying a word, he turned, and they all followed him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Eddard said, looking over the hall. The King and Queen sat at the head of the table, the wounded Joffrey next to his mother. His arm had a bandage wrapped around it, a small one. Nick had refused treatment for his cut, dried blood covering his face. "I hear my children have fought, their direwolves imprisoned, and taken before the King?" Eddard's voice was full of fury, angry at the situation.

"Your children attacked my son, beating him with sticks. Your son tried to kill him with a sword!" Cersei said, angry. "The cut on his arm will scar him for life."

"Quiet, woman," Robert said, exhausted. He prefered drinking and whoring, and this was neither. "That is the story my son provides. You children are yet to speak."

"Lady Emma and I were walking," Nick said, glaring at the young prince that had tried to kill him. His arm was hurting from the arrow wound, and the fight with Joffrey had not helped that. "We came across Arya and this lad, Mycah, who were dueling with broom handles. I joined them, showing them how to do it properly. Prince Joffrey came from the woods with Sansa, with a half-empty wineskin, and jested with us. He pressed his blade against Mycah's cheek, drawing blood. Arya -"

"NO!" Joffrey exclaimed, stepping forward and interrupting Nick. "I came in, and he attacked me. Him and his bitch sister."

"Watch your mouth, child," Robert said, seeing the glares from the Starks. He grabbed the prince by the arm, pulling him back. "Continue, Stark."

"Arya yelled at him to stop, and shoved him aside. He lashed out and swung with his sword, cutting me," Nick gestured to the cut across his nose. "So I drew my own blade, and gave him a scratch across the arm. You know the tale from there, your grace."

The King thought, annoyed. "Lying to your King is a serious crime. Can anyone second either of your tales?"

"I can!" Arya said, stepping forward. "And so can Lady Sansa, and Lady Emma, and Mycah!"

"Daughter of mine?"

"I-what Nicholas says is true. My brother swung the first blow." Emma looked down at the ground, avoiding the glare from Joffrey.

"Very well. Then we are done here. I shall discipline my son. Ned, I trust you shall do the same."

"What of the beasts?" Cersei said, her face blank. But Nick could see her eyes, and they were filled with anger. "The men following the prince say the direwolves growled at them, nearly killing them."

"Damn it, woman." Robert said, mad at his wife. "Fine. Kill the beasts, and get them dogs, Ned. They'll be better for it."

"You want my wolf," Nick said, stepping forward and glaring at the King. His father protested quietly, but Nick ignored him. "You have to get through me."

"You would disobey the orders of your King?" Robert looked at Nick, surprised. Cersei just got madder.

"Any King who destroy a sign from the gods. Seven direwolves, for the seven children of Eddard Stark."

"Is this true, Ned?" Robert said, looking from one to the other.

"It is, your grace."

"Very well, keep the damn wolves. They have done little wrong."

Nick sat on the wall of the holdfast, his legs dangling off the side of the wall. Night sat behind him, watching. The moon was above them, moonlight shining down and lighting the night as if it was broad daylight. Night stirred, and Nick looked behind him. He saw Emma walking up the steps, candle in hand. Nick swung his legs around and stood up, greeting the woman.

"My lady," Nick said, taking the candle from her hands. He set it on the wall, taking her hand in his and walking them both over to the wall, sitting atop it. "What are you doing out here, so late at night?"

"I could say the same to you, my lord," She said with a faint smile on her face. "I went looking for you, yet couldn't find you."

"Just….thinking. Thank you, by the way."

"For what?"

"For telling the truth earlier today. I fear my wolf would be dead were it not for you."

With this Nick stood, signalling Emma to do the same. He embraced her, kissing her softly on the lips, the moonlight lighting them as they stood there on the ramparts. The broke apart, heading back to their chambers. King Robert had had them put in the same room, to get them to adjust to the married life they would have with the warmth of another in their bed. They slipped into bed, pulling the furs close to their chins. Nick put his arms around her, and they fell asleep as such with the direwolf at the foot of their bed.


	8. Chapter 7

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Warning! Spoilers!**

 _(RAYOR)_

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Author's Note: Hey guys, hope you like this next chapter. I do need names for characters later on in the series, so please leave names you like. as always, I am open to comments, crticisms, or advice. If you need advice, don't hesitate to message me. Enjoy!_

Nick stood there at the top of the Tower of the Hand. He could see for miles, looking out over Blackwater bay. He could see, far, far away, a small speck in the distance that could only be Dragonstone. He was leaning against part of the battlements, keeping the weight off of his leg. It didn't hurt much, not nearly as much as his shoulder. The arrow had stuck into the bone. He had been unconscious, but he heard that it had been hard to get out.

The breeze was nice, much warmer down in the south than in the north he had lived in his entire life. There were clear skies, no clouds that were threatening snow flurries. Hearing the door open behind him he turned around, expecting to see Emma. Instead, Jory climbed up out of the trapdoor.

"Lord Stark wishes for you to meet with him," Jory said, speaking in the gruff northern accent that was strange in these parts of Westeros. "You will be visiting a spot in the city, be ready to ride. Your horse is being prepared."

"Thank you, Jory," Nick said, smiling at the northern warrior. He followed Jory, heading down the ladder and down the winding staircase to the foot of the tower. Jory had sacrificed much to travel with them. His wife, Claire, was very pregnant, being ready to give birth at any moment. Eddard had asked him to stay, but Jory was one of the best guards Ned had. He had refused the offer to stay, promising to defend Ned with his life.

Reaching the bottom, Nick and Jory met up with Eddard, who refused to tell Nick were they were going. They traveled through the winding streets of King's Landing, twisting left and right. Nick would have gotten lost if it were not for the Red Keep, standing tall above the city. Finally, the pulled up at a stop outside of a pleasure house, of all places. Dismounting, they left two of the six men who were with them outside to guard the horses, one of them being Jory. He had volunteered for the post, remembering the oath to his wife. The four men who came inside with them stayed down on the first floor, flirting with the scantily-clad women working there.

"Father," Nick said, speaking to Eddard. "What is our business here?"

"All in due time, son," Eddard said, walking up the stairs by the back of the establishment. Proceeding up the stairs, he stopped on a small landing, and, ignoring the sounds pleasure coming from nearby rooms, began to speak to a man standing there with an air of importance, acting like he owned the place. In fact, he did, and his name was Pyter Baelish.

"Why have I been called here, Littlefinger?" Ned said, clearly annoyed by the surroundings he was in. He stepped forward, placing his hand on Littlefinger's chest and slamming him against the wall. "What do you want?"

"Simply to set you up with a lady. Your wife."

At this point the door next to them opened up, and Lady Catelyn stuck her head out.

"Ned!" She said, reaching out a grabbing Ned's arm. "Come on. We need to talk. Hello son." She disappeared back behind the door, closing behind her and Eddard.

For the next half hour, Nick stood guard outside of their door. He watched as all sorts of people walked by. He made a promise to himself to never visit a pleasure house for pleasure, as he saw the same women pass by him four different times with six different customers.

Time passed, as it does, until the door next to him opened. He followed Eddard as he led them back down the staircase, to the entrance, and out the front door.

"What did mother want?" Nick asked, curious about why she would travel so far.

"Bran has awoken," Eddard said, speaking in a low voice. "And someone tried to have him killed. A valyrian steel knife. Lord Baelish says that it is Tyrion Lannister's, but Littlefinger is Littlefinger so…."

The four men they had left there in the entrance room got up, kissing their lovers goodbye and following their lord out the door. As they walked outside, something was different in the air. As soon as Nick thought the thought, at least thirty Lannister footmen ran out, blocking the roadway and stopping the Stark men from leaving. And in front of them stood the Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister, dressed up all in golden armor.

"Well, well, well," Ser Jaime said, cracking a smile and holding his arms out. "What have we here? The honorable Ned Stark, walking out of a whorehouse, with his son, no less."

"Step aside, Kingslayer," Nick said, stepping in front of Eddard with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Hmm," Ser Jaime said, cracking a smile and dropping his hands to his side. "I admire your bravery. Kill the soldiers. Knock out the boy."

Before the men could react, two the the Lannisters lunged forward and impaled the two men guarding the horses. Another of the Stark men was killed when Ser Jaime threw a javelin straight through his chest, killing him instantly. The fourth Stark man got his sword out in time, managing to disarm the man attacking him. But he died with a spear through the back. The fifth Stark man managed to kill his attacker. In a rush of adrenaline, he charged forward to attack the Kingslayer. With a smile on his face, Ser Jaime cut first the man's hand, then arm, then head off. With blood dripping off his sword, he advanced upon Eddard. Jory, on the other hand, was holding his own. He killed first one, then two, then three of the Lannister men. But he made the fatal mistake of attempting to kill the Kingslayer. He held his own, but only for a second. The Lannister pinned his sword against the ground, and, drawing a knife, stabbed Jory through the eye. He died a minute later, lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

While Nick watched the fight unfold, he forgot about the fight at hand with his opponent. The Lannister man drew his sword, advancing forward on Nick. Nick snapped back to attention, drawing his sword from it's scabbard with the yell of scraping steel. He reached down, grabbing a shield from a dead Stark soldier. As the enemy advanced, Nick surprised him by running forward and slamming him in the chest with his shield. As the man stumbled backward, Nick swung his sword downwards, nearly cutting the man in half. Down through his left collarbone and into the lower right side of his chest, the man fell to his knees, blood starting to spill over his lips. Putting his foot on the man's chest, Nick pushed off, pulling his sword out of the man's chest. As NIck watched the dead man fall over, a second enemy ran straight at him, sword raised over his head. Waiting for the the man to get closer, Nick suddenly pulled his shield up over his head, blocking the blow. As he did this, he stabbed straight into the gut of his enemy. Twisting the blade, he tore it back out again, sending blood spraying out. He dropped his shield back down to his side as he heard the sword clatter to the ground.

Turning around, he looked and saw as Eddard and Jaime exchanged blows, duling back and forth across the pathway. Two men ran at him, one with a spear and the other with a sword. As the spearman advanced from the front, Nick lunged forward grabbing the spear with his left hand. Pulling the foe closer, he stabbed through the man's throat. As he fell to the ground, Nick took the spear, turning it around with the point facing the enemies. The swordsman charged, running right at Nick. Nick jabbed forward with the spear, impaling the combatant in the gut. Letting go of the spear, swung his sword and beheaded the foe. The head rolled over towards the line of enemies waiting to enter the combat, creating a pool of blood at their feet. He once again turned around, just in time to see a spear go through the leg of his father. Ser Jaime stopped fighting, turning and smacking the soldier who had stabbed Eddard with the flat side of his blade. Apparently it was powerful enough to knock the man unconscious.

Ser Jaime yelled something, most likely telling him to yield. But Nick didn't hear it. His ears were roaring, and hatred crossed his face. Yelling, Nick charged straight at Ser Jaime. He backed away instead sending his several of his men at Nick. The first was just another spearman, easily struck down with a shield blocking the spear and a sword through the chest. The second man fired a crossbow, the bolt thudding into Nick's shoulder, the same one the arrow had hit a few weeks earlier, just a few inches lower, in his upper arm. As the man reloaded, Nick charged straight at him, quickly killing the foe with a blow to the side, nearly cutting him in half. The third foe seemed to be a dismounted knight of sorts. He wore the red and gold of the Lannister troops. The man was skilled, but not skilled enough. Their duel lasted until the enemy slipped up, allowing Nick to deliver a crushing blow to the weak point in the man's leg. Collapsing down onto his knees, the man tried to swing his sword at Nick. Seeing this, he slammed his shield down on the man's elbow, breaking it. From there, he lifted the sword up with both hands and buried it up to the hilt down into the chest of the soldier through a weak point in the neck. He watched as the blood flowed out over the combatant's armor and down onto the ground. Pulling the sword out, he twirled around, looking for another enemy.

There was no one in sight. They had turned and ran while Nick had dealt with the three fighting him. While they could probably have overtaken him with superior numbers, Ser Jaime must realized the heavy casulties he would have taken. Nick looked over, seeing the enemy Ser Jaime had hit. Walking over to the soldier, Nick reached down, picking up a loose spear and driving the point of it through the foe's neck. Leaving it where it was, standing up through the neck, he stumbled over to his father's side. Kneeling, he laid over on his side, passing out from blood loss.


	9. Chapter 8

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 8**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Author's Note: Well. That chapter was a bit longer than I thought it would be when I started. However, I'm glad I finsihed it. The story wilm not be updating with the same consistancy of last week, but I will try to update once every few days. Keep those harmed in the Las Vegas shooting in your thoughts (and prayers, if you do that). I hope in some humble way I can bring some form of relief with my little story here. As always, enjoy the eighth chapter of_ **The Sword of The Starks!**

Nick's eyes open, slowly. He was lying in a bed, a soft one, with a pillow under his head and a sheet over top of him. He could feel a throbbing pain in his left arm. Rolling his head to face his left side, he saw Emma asleep on his chest. Her hand was holding his on top of his stomach. She had snuggled her way under his left arm, with her other hand underneath him. Stirring from his movement, she sleepily looked up at him, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

"Morning beautiful," Nick said, smiling at Emma. She smiled back, leaning up and kissing him.

"How's the arm?" She asked, moving her hand up onto his chest. "The maester said that the wound would heal fine if it wasn't hurt again. I'm going to kill that uncle of mine."

Suddenly it all came rushing back. The dead Stark and Lannister men, his father wounded, Jory's dead body. Poor Claire. Her husband, dead in the south. Her child would grow up fatherless, all because of some feud between two rich families. The common people always suffered when the rich families made war. It was a naive hope that things could one day be different. And even if that one day became true, it would be a time long after Nick and everyone he knew was dead.

"My father," Nick said moving his arm to try and sit up. Emma stopped him, pushing her hand on his chest until he laid back down. "Is he alright? Is he alive?"

"He is fine," Emma responded, laying her head back down onto his chest facing him. "The maester said that he'll need a cane for a bit, but the wound will heal."

"When can I see him?'' Nick asked, grunting as the pain from his right shoulder came shooting back.

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Emma said, laughing quietly as she responded. She reached up, brushing her hair behind her ear. Smiling at him, she said, "The maester wants you in bed for at least another day. You've been out for a day. And you need to take better care of yourself. That's two wounds in as nearly as many months."

As she said this she playfully pushed Nick's chest. They lay there for a few minutes, just looking into each other's eyes. Leaning down, Nick kissed her, holding the kiss for as long as he could. Pulling back, they looked into each other's eyes, both sharing quiet laughter for a few minutes.

"So," Nick said, breaking the silence. "When is the wedding?"

"Nick!" Emma said, astonished by Nick's words. "I...I haven't even said yes yet."

"Well, Em, I don't think we have much of a choice. Our parents kind of decided for us."

"True," Emma said, lost in thought. For a few minutes they were both silent until Emma spoke up again, "I'd say yes."

"What?"

"I'd say yes. I would. Given the choice, I would."

With this, Nick reached down, putting his hand behind her head. He leaned down, kissing Emma and pulling her forward toward him. They stayed like this, making out for several minutes. As they kissed, Emma moved up on top of Nick, until she was straddling him.

"Wait," Nick said, moving his arm until it was on her shoulder. "We can't do this."

"Why not?"

"There's that whole wedding thing. And your father would kill me. And -"

"Alright, alright, fine," Emma said, leaning down and kissing Nick. She then slid off of him, lying down on Nick's right side on her own side. Nick turned over to face her, kissing her.

"Your sword is over there by the way," Emma said, pointing over behind Nick on the other side of the bed. Nick turned his head over, seeing it propped up against the side of the bed. As he looked around, he saw that they were in his room in the Tower of the Hand. The light streamed in through the windows, past the open dark-red curtains and into the room.

Turning back around, Nick looked at Emma, leaning down to kiss her. She put her arms around the back of Nick's head, kissing him. They lay in his bed, kissing back and forth for several minutes. For a while they lay there, holding each other in their arms, enjoying the the other's company. A few minutes passed, until there was a knock at the door and a voice called out the presence of the maester.

Emma told the man the door was open, and to enter. As the door opened, she turned over with her back to Nick and swept her feet off of the bed.

"Yes," She said, standing up and looking at the maester. "What do you want?"

"The Hand is asking for his son," Maester Pycelle said in his frail voice.

Nick sat up, wincing in pain. He stood up, grabbing his sword and the belt it was attached to. He wrapped it around himself, tying the belt around his waist. It was now when he realized what it was that he was wearing. He had on pants, thankfully, but he had no shirt on. He could see the white bandages wrapping around his shoulder and arm and a few across the top of his chest. There was a red tint on the arm bandage, but not much. Grabbing a shirt, he pulled it on over his head. He walked over to the open door, following the maester up a small flight of stairs towards his father's room. It was a great feat for the old maester, taking him nearly half a minute for each stair.

Once they finally reached Lord Stark's chambers, Nick spotted the door being flanked by several Lannister footmen. Across the hallway from them stood just as many Northern men, spears in hand. Upon entering the room, Nicholas immediately spotted the King standing at the foot of Eddard's bed. To his immediate left stood Ser Jaime, the bastard who had killed Jory. Nick's hand immediately dashed to the hilt of his sword. At the same time as he entered, Ser Jaime look at him and stepped in front of the King, managing to draw his sword slightly from its sheath. But before he could get it very far, Nick's sword was on top of his handle, pressing down against the sword and pressing against the armor on the Kingslayer. Ser Jaime drew his knife, driving it towards Nick's chest. As the blade came towards him, Nick reached around with his left hand and grabbed the knife that was attached to the back of his belt. Pulling it up and around, he parried the Kingslayer's blade and jabbed towards the foe's throat. At the last second, Ser Jaime shoved his dagger against Nick's blade. They stood there, struggling against each other's blade.

"Stop it!" Emma said, marching in and putting her hands on each of their chests, pushing them apart. "Enough blood has been shed! Don't add either of yours to the mix."

Nick glared at the Golden Knight, pulling his blades back to their sheath's slowly as the opponent did the same. He stepped back, watching the Kingslayer do the same.

"Apologies, Your Grace," Nick said, looking past Ser Jaime at the King. "I meant no disrespect. But this bastard killed my friend and six others."

"Yes," King Robert said, looking at the two of them. "And you killed seven of his men, with four others being killed by your Northern soldiers. As my daughter said, enough bloody corpses are being sent home. Let's not have any more."

"Yes, Your Grace," Nick said, removing his hand from the hilt of his sword. "As you command. What is it that you need, Father?"

"My business concerns both you and your betrothed," Eddard said, sitting up in bed. His leg was propped up on a set of pillows. Nick could tell from the bloody bandages at the foot of the bed that the wound was serious. "The King and I have decided on a wedding date. In fact, we decided on it a long time ago, on the trip down here. All the proper lords and ladies of the realm are already on their way here, to arrive in two days time. The wedding will be the next day."

"Well," Nick said, looking over at Emma, looking for her reaction to the news. But her face was emotionless, staring blankly forward. She would be good at this political game. "When and where will the wedding be?"

"It will be in the Sept of Baelor," King Robert said, looking over at his future son by law and daughter. "Around mid-day."

With this information, King Robert turned, wishing them good-byes, and left the room followed by Ser Jaime. As Nick watched him walk out, Emma took Nick's hand and looked him in the eyes, smiling at him.

"Son," Eddard said, drawing their attention back to him. "Come here. I need to tell you something. Lady Emma, you can come as well."

"What is it?" Nick said, walking over to the bed of his father and sitting down at the side of it.

"Jon Arryn found something out before his passing." With this, Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King, described to the eldest true-born daughter of King Robert and her future husband what Jon Arryn had discovered. He described how Cersei had given birth to five children, only two belonging to the King and only one of the two surviving infancy. He told the two of them his plan of how they were going to inform the King of the treason of his wife and, should she and the Lannister men resist, how the Starks were going to seize the throne in the name of the King. The Gold Cloaks were on their side, so they very easily would outnumber the Lannister men.

"Now go," Eddard said, shooing the two of them out of his chambers. "Tell no one what is to happen. I shall confront the King after the wedding happens. If all goes well, neither of you should be involved in the event.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger." Nick chanted in tune with Emma, looking into her eyes. "I am hers, and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days."

"With this kiss, I pledge my love," Nick leaned in, kissing Emma on the lips in front of the Sept, full of lords and ladies from all over the Seven Kingdoms. His father was in the front row, with the King and the rest of the royal family. While Tommen and Myrcella were smiling, Joffrey seemed bored, almost mad. The King and Hand had smiles across their faces while the Queen shared the same expression as her eldest son. Her face had changed this way when Nick had removed the cloak of House Baratheon of King's Landing and replaced it with the banner of the Starks.

Breaking away, Nick and Emma turned to face the crowd of nobles. They walked down the steps and down the middle of the crowd, following the pathway. Behind them people stood up, walking down the aisle, following them. A minute later they were out of the Sept, walking down the steps. There they boarded carriages, taking them up through the streets to the Red Keep. From there they walked to the feasting grounds, out in the sunshine. They sat at the table, upon the raised dais, with the King, Queen, Hand, and the rest of the relatives of the newlywed couple around them. And then the festivities began.

"I thought that it would never end," Emma whispered into Nick's ear, leaning close to him so that no one else would hear them. "The Septon talked for quite a bit."

"Yeah, he sure did," Nick said, laughing quietly. They chatted for a small time, waiting for the meals to come. Soon, a large pigeon pie was brought out. Upon seeing this, Nick and Emma stood up and walked down towards the pie. They each put a hand on the pie-cutter and cut out a large slice off of the side. Placing it onto a plate, they took the plate back up towards their seat. Sitting back down, they each picked up a fork and took a bite of the pie.

After they ate the first bite, they watched as everyone else in turn got up and took a slice of the pie. They ate the rest of their slice, occasionally breaking off a piece and feeding it to the other sweetly. The courses came, with there being much more food than they could eat. In the end, they only ate a small bit of each of the courses, with there being seven in total. Eventually, the feast was over. There would be no bedding ceremony, so Nick and Emma made their way back to his chambers. They entered the room, smiling at each other and sitting down on on the bed.

"I thought that it would never be over," Emma said, flopping down onto the bed, spreading her arms out. Nick turned around to look at her, lying down on his side, propped up on his elbow. She shifted over, looking him in the eyes. They kissed, a much longer and much better one than the one they had exchanged in the Sept. He put his arms around her, lifting her up so they were standing at the side of the bed. Reaching around her back, he pulled at the strings on the back of her dress. He reached around with his other hand, putting it down on her waist as he leaned in and kissed her. She reached down and pulled the jacket on him off, undoing the buttons and tossing it off to the side. She let the dress slip off of her, revealing her smallclothes. She tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up off of him, only breaking the kiss when his shirt passed between them before being thrown over into some corner of the room. He leaned down, pulling off the rest of her clothes, leaving her completely naked. As he stood up, she reached down and pulled the rest of his clothes off. They stepped back from each other, each giving the other a lookover. Emma smiled at him, jumping up onto Nick, wrapping her legs around him and kissing him ferociously. He put his arms around her bare back, kissing her back. They walked over to his bed, and Nick let go of her, dropping her onto the bed. She smiled at him, moving herself back along the bed, so her head was on the pillow. Nick smiled back at her, climbing onto the bed, getting on to of her, and kissing her, their tongues darting back and forth.

"I love you, Emma Stark," Nick said, his face inches from her's.

"I love you, Nicholas Stark," She said, kissing him once again.


	10. Chapter 9

**The Sword of the Starks**

 **Chapter 9**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Author's Note: Hello readers. I haven't much to say this time other than I hope you enjoy the 9th chapter of **The Sword of The Starks**._

Nick awoke, sunlight streaming down onto the bed. As his eyes blinked open, he saw the woman lying across from him. Her black hair was lying down across her shoulders and face, going onto her back. The two of them were lying on their chests, facing inwards towards the center of the bed. Their hands were joined in between them, even after they had fallen asleep. He let go of her hand, moving his up and brushing a strand of hair out of her hair. Their faces were a few inches away from each other. They had fallen asleep happy, holding each other in their arms. During the night they must have untangled themselves, still holding hands.

"Mmmm," Emma moaned, her eyes fluttering open. She looked over at Nick, smiling at him and moving closer towards him, moving herself onto her side, as Nick did the same. She put her arms around him, kissing him.

"Sorry if I woke you up," Nick said, kissing her back.

"It's fine," Emma said, kissing him again and resting her head against his chest. "I'm glad you did."

"So," Nick said, kissing the top of her head. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Emma said, looking up at Nick. "We're married. We get to live the rest of our lives by each other's sides."

"Mmm. That we do," Nick said, kissing her. "What about kids? Assuming that you want children."

"Of course I do," Emma said, smiling at Nick and putting her hands down onto his waist. Leaning up to kiss him, she talked quietly to him. "At least three. But maybe more. We'll see how it goes from there."

"Alright," Nick said, smiling as he kissed her. "But I will need sons. Or at least my father will."

"Fine," Emma said, smiling as she kissed him back. "But then I'm going to need daughters then."

"Well," Nick said, chuckling to himself. "If both of our requests are plural, then we are at least up to four."

"Mmm. Well, I think I can manage that." Emma said, laughing along with Nick. "But let's get through the first one first."

They lay there, in bed, for the next few hours talking and making out, their naked bodies pressed against each other. Later, there was a knock at the door. Nick stood up from bed, grabbing a pair of his pants and putting them on. Before opening the door, he looked over at Emma in bed, making sure she was covered up. He opened the door a crack, peering out through the small sliver.

"Who is it?" Nick asked, addressing the person who would disturb his morning.

"The maester, m'lord. Come quick! The King has been wounded!"

With this, Nick turned to face Emma, watching as the news of her father crossed her face. He noticed the movements Emma began to make, as if she was about to get up. Nick shut the door, turning around and walking over to grab one of his shirts. Pulling it on, he watched as Emma got dressed. Once they were both dressed, they opened the door and followed the maester, heading towards the King's chambers. They exited the Tower of the Hand, crossing the courtyard and entering the Red Keep. From there, they made their way to King's Chambers. Upon entering, he spotted Ser Barristan, Ser Mandon Moore, and Ser Preston Greenfield all standing around the King's bed. Next to the bed, in a chair, sat Nick's father, Eddard, with his leg all sprawled out in front of him.

"Father!" Emma said, running to King Robert's bedside.

"Daughter," The King said, grunting. His entire front was bloody, with it being badly bandaged up. "Eddard has informed me of my wife's betrayal. I am inclined to believe him with what it is that he has gathered. If it is true, then you are the heir to the Seven Kingdoms. I'm glad that Nicholas will be by your side." As the King said this, he was coughing and grunting in pain every few words. "However, your mother has refused to surrender the throne. As such, in the name of, well, me, I proclaim you, Lady Emma of the Noble Houses Stark and Baratheon, heir to the Iron Throne. And I, here and forevermore, disavow Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella Hill from the bloodline of the Kings and Queens of Westeros and the Iron Throne. I command all the Kingsguard to protect you, Princess Emma. Now, in the name of the King, I command all who are present and those loyal to them to reclaim the throne and put an end to the false rule of the pretender Queen and princes."

With this Nick and the rest of them left the chamber, getting to their feet. From there they all went to their rooms, gathering their gear and troops. They returned to the courtyard, all the loyal Stark and Baratheon men standing at the ready. The Gold Cloaks of the city watch marched with them, secured to them in ways that Nick did not know, only by what his father told him. Nick was in full battle armor, sword secured at his side. He walked at the front of the column with Emma and Ned, his direwolf Night walking along by his side. Around them stood the three men of the Kingsguard who were loyal to them. The Stark and Baratheon men marched behind them with the Gold Cloaks on the flanks. They threw the doors open, marching inside and stopping at the foot of the throne.

"I hope that you have come here to swear fealty to the new King," Queen Cersei said as she stood next to the Iron Throne. Seated in the Iron Throne sat Prince Joffrey.

"We shall swear no new fealty," Eddard said, stepping forward and addressing the Queen and Prince. "As long as the King still lives."

"Actually," Maester Pycelle said, speaking in his old, slow tone. "The King passed away just now. The bells should start-" He was interrupted by the sound of the ringing bells. The Sept of Baelor was ringing away, ringing the bells in the way that they only rung when the King was dead.

"NOW!" Joffrey yelled, standing up and calling out to the assembled men. As he stood up, one of the blades from the Iron Throne cut into his arm, tearing through his rich clothes. "Swear fealty to me right now or I'll have all your heads on pikes!"

With this Ser Barristan stepped forward, pulling out a piece of parchment. On the parchment was written what it was that the King had said. As Ser Barristan said this, Nick looked around at the men crowded into the throne room. He could see several of the Lannister men lined up in front of the Kingsguard, who were in front of the King, looking around, judging what was being said. Suddenly, six of the men walked forward, stepping next to the Stark and Baratheon men, and turned to face the false king, hands on the hilts of their swords.

As Ser Barristan finished, he handed the parchment to one of the Lannister men who gave it to the Queen. "You really think," The Queen said, tearing the parchment into eight separate pieces. "That that will protect you?"

With this she nodded at Petyr Baelish, who was standing to the side next to the commander of the Gold Cloaks. Nick was one of the few who caught this, and he managed to draw his sword from its scabbard. Lord Eddard had Ice strapped to his back, and managed to get it out onto the ground. But behind him came Littlefinger. He put his dagger to Ned's throat, whispering at him to yield. But Ned drew Ice up, into the air. Petyr slashed the noble lord's throat, blood spilling out over the blade. Ned fell, like a dropped sack, into a crumpled pile onto the ground, blood seeping from the cut into a pool of blood.

While Nick was focused on this, the battle was raging around them. The Gold Cloaks had turned, spearing the Northern men in the backs. Most of the men on the outside of the ranks were dead, but the inner-most men had turned to fight. But Nick ran forward, charging straight towards Littlefinger. Turning to face Nick, he ran away, pulling several Gold Cloaks to defend his path of retreat. The first man ran forward, spear's in hand. As he lunged forward, Nick sidestepped and slashed his sword across the man's neck, nearly beheading him. Blood sprayed everywhere, onto the next man's golden armor. He was stunned by the blow, stumbling backwards. Nick's sword cut through the golden chainmail easily, stabbing the man straight through the chest. The third man ran forward with his sword, throwing a blow down from above. Nick parried the blow easily, turning and sweeping a blow through the opponent's side. He watched as the man fell down to his knees, falling over onto his side as blood spilled out into a pool.

Meanwhile, his direwolf was wrecking havoc on the enemy soldiers. At the commencing of the battle, Night had lunged forward, tearing the throat out of the closest foe. Night killed eight more enemies, all while defending Emma from assailants. There were multiple body parts flung around the hall, so much so that it was unclear who it was that each belonged to.

Finished with his opponents, Nick looked around seeking the man who had murdered his father. Not seeing him, Nick leaned down and closed his father's eyes, grabbing Ice from the floor. He unhooked the sheath from Ned's back, putting it around his own and sheathing the two-handed greatsword away. Turning, Nick saw as Ser Jaime advanced upon Emma. Nick charged forward, cutting through the simple leather armor of one of the Lannister spearmen and spilling his guts across the floor.

As he approached Ser Jaime, Nick sheathed his bastard sword in favor of the two-handed sword across his back. Pulling it out, he slammed his blade down onto the Kingslayer's back. The man stepped out of the way, receiving a blow that cut through the armor on his shoulder and cut into his arm. The gash bled, blood dripping off of the Lannister's arm. Ser Jaime turned around, swinging his blade around. Nick blocked the blow, swinging down at his foe's legs. They continued to trade blows, dueling back and forth until Nick was a beat too late. Receiving a gash across his side that cut through his leather armor easily, Nick collapsed to the ground onto his knees. Smirking, Jaime raised his sword up over his head. Seeing a chance, swung Ice and cut into Ser Jaime's leg. As he fell to the ground, Nick tore the greatsword out of the knight's leg, sending blood spraying out. Nick hit the Kingsguard warrior in the side of the head with the flat of the blade, knocking him unconscious and sending him to the ground.

"Nick!" Emma yelled out, drawing his attention. She was standing in the doorway, surrounded by two dozen men loyal to her. Around her was twice that number, and it was growing larger as the remaining Stark and Baratheon men were killed around the hall. The fight was not going their way. Ser Mandon Moore was dead, killed by the other three of the Kingsguard left standing. "We need to go now!"

Nick ran after her, only to find Ser Boros Blount blocking his path. Nick dueled with the man for a moment, before Nick knocked aside his blade. The valyrian steel of the sword cut straight through the man's breastplate, stabbing into his chest and killing him instantly. The greatsword was sharp, sharper than any other in the realm.

Push past the falling corpse, Nick cut through four other men before reaching his wife. Together they led the remaining troops through the streets, running for the stables. Upon reaching them, Nick led the others onto horseback, mounting steeds to take them far away from King's Landing. From there they rode through the streets, making for the main gate. Upon reaching it, the two spearmen there attempted to stop them from leaving. The first was killed when Nick rode by him, getting cut nearly in half, blood spraying everywhere. The second man managed to get his spear up, getting one of the rider's horse through the neck. The spear slammed into the man's chest, killing him instantly. The horse flew forward, slamming into the guard and crushing him under the weight of the horse.

As the small group rode out of the city, archers on the wall loosed volley after volley of arrows. Only two found their marks, and both of the arrows wounded men, not killing them.

The party rode on, traveling North on the Kingsroad. That night they came across a small caravan, filled to the brim with westerlands gear for the armies, along with food and water.

Upon reaching the group, they handed the leader a copy of the King's last decree. Ser Barristan read it to the men, and the caravan listened. Of the thirty men, two dozen of them fell in with Nick's party. The other six, resisted, proclaiming that it was a hoax and Joffrey was the one true King. The men from the caravan killed the resisters, showing their loyalty to the one true Queen. That night they made camp, north of King's Landing in the woods.

They had four and twenty men from the caravan, seven Baratheon men, eleven Stark men, and two of the six Lannister men who had joined their side in the Throne Room. In addition to the four and forty men, they had both Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Preston Greenfield. As they had ran out of the Throne Room, Arya had ran in alongside of them. Sansa had disappeared in the fight, most likely to her room with her handmaidens. With the addition of the two Kingsguard, Nick, Arya, and Emma, their party was nine and forty in size. That night, Nymeria walked into their camp. Night had been howling, and she had responded to his calls for his sister. Arya rejoiced, glad that her direwolf was back.


	11. Chapter 10

**The Sword of the Starks**

 **Chapter 10**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Author's Note: Holy shit. Chapter Ten. I have a lot planned for this series, but wow. I'm only saying this as I've never really made it to a tenth chapter, only reaching four or five on other stories. So as always, I hope that you like this next chapter and please comment with any concerns, complaints, criticisms, thoughts, or anything in general. Also, tell me what you readers think about Lady Catelyn._

Nick sat in his tent, looking through his father's bags. They had been pack with their horses in case of the coup going wrong, which it did. Sadly, with his father's murder, he never made it to the horses.

There were clothes, books, but mostly letters. Most were from his mother, letters regarding small things, such as news around the castle. Claire, Jory's wife, had given birth to a son, naming him Elras. The child was healthy, as was the mother, but news was yet to reach them of Jory's death. Nick would need to remember to send a letter later that day.

However, the letters were none of his business, being private correspondence between his Mother and Father. He put the things back away, packing them back up just as he had found them. As he was putting the things back, one of the letters fell onto the ground. He picked it up, seeing the seal was already broken. He rolled it open, scanning the first few lines. They read of Tyrion Lannister. Apparently, he had been detained by Mother for an attempt on Bran's life, by a hired blade. She was apparently heading to The Vale, looking for a trial with her sister. As he was folding it back up, one word in the last line caught his eye. Pregnant. While she had already given birth to six children, she was young enough to birth more children, with Rickon being born six years ago, when she was nine and twenty.

As he read this, he smiled, happy about the news, even if he did read it from a letter in his dead Father's bags. He turned around, hearing the sheets on the bed ruffle. Emma was waking up, looking over at Nick as he sat on a makeshift bench made of a split log. The "bed" was a padded cot, with a few pillows and furs. It wasn't much, yet it was better than the prison cell they would both be in had they been captured. Emma sat up, pulling the furs up to her chin.

"Hey," Emma said, smiling at Nick. "What are you up to?"

"Going through my Father's things," Nick said, smiling back at her. "I found a letter from my mother. She believes that she is with child."

"Wow," Emma said, letting the furs drop down as she stood up and walked over to Nick, putting her arms around his chest from behind. She leaned down, kissing his neck. He leaned his head back into Emma, kissing her on the cheek. "Well good for her. It'll be good for her to have another child to look after, with the grief of losing her husband."

Nick nodded, agreeing with her. There was a voice outside the tent, asking if they were decent. Emma dashed over, grabbing the furs off of their bed and covering herself with them. She looked at Nick, who was wearing a simple robe. Asking who it was, and being told it was Ser Barristan, she told him to enter.

"My Queen, my lord," He said, golden armor gleaming. "We need to move out soon. A Lannister scouting party was spotted just south of us."

"Very well," Nick said, getting to his feet. "Are the men ready? And how many enemies were spotted?"

"Around a dozen. We are pretty sure that they saw the scouts, but didn't realize who they were. And the men will be ready to ride soon."

"Alright," Nick said, looking over at Emma. "I'll take a group of men on horseback, see whether these men will join our cause. If not, they will die."

"Fine," Emma said, a sad look on her face. "Just….don't get hurt. I don't like all this killing that we are doing."

"As you wish," Nick said, nodding at Emma. Ser Barristan left the tent they were in, giving them the privacy to get changed. As Selmy left, Nick buttoned up the tent flap behind him. Emma shrugged the furs off again, letting them fall back onto the bed. She walked over to Nick, kissing him on the lips. He put his arms around her waist, holding her tight as he kissed her back. They stood there, Emma as naked as her name day, kissing for several minutes. Eventually, Nick pulled back, untangling himself and getting dressed. He had gotten new armor, taken from one of the dead caravan men. It was metal plate, which he had wrapped the leather from the other set around. There was chainmail under his arms and around them, along with his neck, but the plate would protect his chest and heart. He pulled his belt on, sword hanging from his left side and dagger on his right. As he walked towards the flap at the front of the tent, he turned to Emma and gave her one more kiss. Stepping out of the tent, he walked over to one of the archers that was with them. He had asked the man the previous day to get him a bow and quiver of arrows to use. The man had found a good bow, styled after the bows used by the Dothraki in Essos. It was a bow for a rider, not a footman, as it could not match the range of a longbow. Nick took it, taking the quiver that he had given Nick as well. He attached the quiver to his back, down by his hip over his right side and the bow on his left side, behind his sword on his hip.

"Come on, lads," Nick cried out to the gathered men who would be riding with him. Mounting up, Nick looked out at them gathered beneath him. "Let's ride!"

Nick led the group, riding out through the camp. They were twenty strong, and Ser Preston Greenfield was riding with them as well, his golden armor gleaming in the sun. Nick would have to get that changed, as it would give them away if they ever tried to sneak around to somewhere. Ser Barristan wanted to come with them, but The Queen needed the best swordsmen around her to defend her.

The ride was lasted a bit, as they were riding quietly and slowly to sneak up on the group. They reached the clearing where the dozen Lannister scouts were. Reaching them, Nick shouted out and galloped into the clearing, drawing the bow and knocking an arrow. As he rode in, the rest of the men rode out around him, encircling the enemies. Ser Preston took out the paper with King Robert's last decree, reading it out to them. The men looked at each other, doubt in their eyes. Several of them threw down their weapons, as Ser Preston had ordered them to. But eight of them held their weapons firm, running at Nick and the few men around him. Nick loosed the arrow, sending it straight into the first man's throat. He reached back, drawing another arrow and sending it into the next man's heart, cutting through the leather and padding that was covering his chest. Putting the bow back, Nick drew his sword and charged at the next man. Nick cut him across the chest, carving deep into his opponent's chest and breaking through the rib cage and sending blood spraying upwards in the direction of the cut. As Nick rounded on the fourth man, the foe attempted to block the slash with the handle of his spear. Nick's sword cut straight through it, slashing downwards into the man's head. Nick pulled it out, blood spraying out with the sword.

Nick looked over at the four men still remaining. He watched as the next man was cut down with a spear through the chest. As the fifth man's corpse fell to the ground, the remaining three men threw down their weapons and kneeled, hands behind their heads. Nick dismounted, looking at the three of them and walking towards them. As he walked forwards, the first of the three men stood and ran at Nick, knife in hand. Nick ducked down, grabbing the man's leg and rolling him onto Nick's back before throwing him behind him, onto the ground.

The man on Nick's left drew his sword, putting the tip onto the attacker's chest. "Any others?" Nick asked, looking at the two of them. Receiving no response, he drew his sword and cut the two of them across the head, cutting their heads in half and sending blood spraying everywhere. Turning to the other man, Nick helped him to his feet.

"Will you swear your unwavering loyalty to her grace, Queen Emma Baratheon?" Nick said, blood dripping from the end of his sword as he stood in front of him.

"Yes," The man said, kneeling in front of Nick and looking down at the ground, surprised by the offer. "But I have one question, m'lord, why, after I tried to kill you?"

"We need good men by our side. The Queen does." Nick said, looking down at the man. "Those that wait meekly for their death are not fighters. That's why I did not give them the offer. But you, you ran at me and tried to kill me. _You_ are a fighter."

The man stood and, with Nick's leave, walked back over to the rest of the scouts. Five of the dozen men had joined them, loyal to the Queen. Nick had the men gather their supplies and tents, breaking down camp and packing everything up for travel. They left the bodies where they lay, as a warning to the rest of the men pursuing them. They rode back to camp, moving quicker now that there was no need to be quiet.

Upon reaching the camp, Nick was surprised to see Arya in the yard, sword in hand. Some Braavosi was dueling with her. He was much better than her, constantly hitting her with his wooden sword. But Nick could tell Arya was learning. She was blocking several of the blows, parrying several.

As they entered the clearing where the camp was, Arya looked up at the returning riders. The Braavosi hit Arya with the wooden sword in the arm before he looked at what Arya saw. Twirling the sword, he brought it behind his back, along his spine. Arya did the same.

Nick rode over, the rest of the men behind him spanning out and dismounting among the camp, heading to their respective tents and gathering their things. Despite having dealt with the Lannister scouts, it would be best to move on. They wouldn't want to attract any more attention, as there were many lords in the area that wouldn't hesitate to kill them all and imprison them on the orders of the false King Joffrey. Or rather, his mother, Cersei. She was the one truly in power.

The Lannister men came in at the rear of the column, looking out of place in their bright reds and yellows as opposed to the dark greys and browns prevalent in the camp. The two Lannister men from the Throne Room stood up, walking over to the five new Lannisters and bringing them over to their campfire. The only colors that matched the Lannisters were the yellows of the Baratheon men. Yet they had black and greys from shoulderplates and other parts of their armor.

"Hey sis," Nick said, smiling at his sister. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," Arya said, her eyes wide open and with the look on her face of terror with the shock of getting caught. Speaking very fast, she said, "Why? Should I be doing something?"

Stepping forward and bowing at at Nick, the man began to speak. "This man is Syrio Florel, first sword of Braavos." Syrio stood back up, looking at Nick. His accent was very prevalent, clearly from Essos. "Your late father, Lord Eddard Stark, employed me to train your sister in the art of water dancing."

"Very well," Nick said, cracking a smile. "Don't let me stop you. Do continue."

"Thank you, brother." Arya said, smiling at Nick and dashing forward, hugging him. Stepping back, she turned back and went back to the duel.

Nick smiled at her, turning around and entering his and Emma's tent. Upon entering, Nick could tell that she had packed up their things. The tent was bare, with only the split log Nick had sat on that morning remaining. The rest of their things were stacked in a neat pile, set by the entrance to the tent. He could see Emma sitting on the log, book in hand, reading away.

"Hey beautiful," Nick said, coming up behind Emma and wrapping his arms around her gut, holding her tight and kissing her on the neck. "How are you?"

"Pregnant," Emma said, standing around and putting her arms around him as well. She kissed him, pressing her mouth against his. Speaking very fast, she stuttered, "I-I mean, I don't know for sure, it-it's not certain, I-I mean I was late and-"

Nick cut her off, putting his hands on either side of her head and pulling her close to him, kissing her. They stood there for several minutes, Nick just madly kissing her. Pulling back, laughing happily, smile across his face.

"I love you," Nick said, holding her close to him. "How long before you're certain?"

"I don't know," Emma said, a smile on her face. "But my mother taught me a few things, and at least with her, being late was the way that she could tell before it began to show."

"Alright," Nick said, kissing Emma. "Is everything ready to go? We should be heading out soon."

"It is," Emma said, pulling away from Nick and reaching for the tent flap. She rolled it open, stepping outside into the sunlight. The two kingsguard were standing on either side, standing in their full golden armor. She nodded at a group of nearby men who walked over, picking up their gear and loading it onto nearby horses. They walked over, taking down the tent and rolling it up, putting it on the back of Nick's horse.

The group mounted up, the clearing clear on all signs of them ever being there minus the fire pits and logs they had sat on. They rode on, making their way towards the Bloody Gate and the Vale of Arryn, hoping to find Lady Catelyn alive and well at the Eyrie with Nick's Aunt, Lysa.


	12. Chapter 11

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 11**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Author's Note: Not much to say this time, other than I hope you enjoy the next chapter. Also sorry if the formatting of the story is a bit off, there's some wierd thing where I can type it up on my computer but not upload it so I have to do that one my phone. Anyway, favorite, follow, or comment if you so wish and I hope you all have a good day/night, depending on where you are._

"Who would pass the Bloody Gate?" A voice cried out. It was Ser Donnel Waynwood, the Knight of the Gate.

"Nicholas Stark, of House Stark, seeking his mother Lady Catelyn Stark," Nick said, stepping forward in front of his troops. The two men closest to him had pulled their shields in front of him to protect him, guarding him from the dozens of archers aiming arrows at Nick's chest.

"You have Lannister men in your party. What will you do should they commit a crime?"

"I will behead them myself, as I would for any of my men."

There was a small pause, before the gates opened, and a dozen footmen marched out, forming their lines against the sides of the rocks. They stood there, waiting as Nick marched his men through the Gate and into the Vale. The met with Ser Donnel, who wished them well on their way. They rode on, making their way towards the Eyrie. An hour later they stood there, at the base of the stairs heading to the Eyrie. The guards let them pass, all four and fifty of them, making their way up the narrow pass. They left their horses at the stables, going up the narrow pass into the main hall of the Eyrie. Upon entering, Nick immediately spotted Lady Catelyn.

"Mother!" Nick said, smiling at her. They both moved forward, hugging each other. "How are you? Are you well?"

"I am well," She said, pulling back. She smiled at him. "I am glad to inform you I'm with child. You are going to have another sibling."

"Wonderful," Nick said, pretending that he had not read the letter. It would not do well to upset his mother even further, after the death of his father. Even though it had been a few months, the pain was fresh in his memory, and his mother's as he imagined.

"Mother," Nick said, turning behind himself and putting his hand on Emma's back, bringing her forward to meet his mother. Smiling, he began to speak, "This is my wife, Emma."

"It's good to meet you, Lady Catelyn," Emma said, smiling at her. Looking over at Nick, she smiled again, moving herself closer to him. "You have raised your son quite well."

"Thank you, my lady." Nick's mother said, nodding at Emma. "You seem to be well. Come. Let us meet with my sister. She will be glad to see her nephew after such a long time."

"Arya is here as well," Nick said, turning as he looked for his sister. Arya peeked out from the northern soldiers that were with them, dashing over to her brother and mother. Together the four of them walked to the Lord's hall, greeting Lysa and Robin. They talked for a while, discussing the recent events. Lysa was hesitant at first, not wanting to trust a Lannister. Nick assured her Emma was no Lannister, a Stark and Baratheon as per her father and husband's houses. They made plans. The Vale was to remain neutral, to avoid the wars and death that was happening in Westeros. Despite Lady Catelyn and Aunt Lysa being sisters, Lysa would not allow them to stay any longer than a month after Catelyn's baby was born. After that they were to leave the Vale, possibly joining Robb. He had raised the North in war, attacking the Lannister armies. Should the Lannisters learn of Lysa harboring the Starks, it would be disastrous for the Vale. Despite the highly defensible position of the Vale, they could only hold out for so long against the might of the rich southern lords. Eventually, an army would simply overpower the Bloody Gate or simply sail around and land inside the Vale, near the Fingers.

"Mother, Emma has some news," Nick said, once their audience was over and the Starks were heading for their chambers for the night. Emma turned, speaking towards Lady Catelyn.

"I am with child as well," Emma said, smiling at her mother by law. Lady Catelyn smiled weakly, tired by the day's events, congratulating her son and daughter. They disbanded, retiring to their chambers for the night.

"Hey Nick," Emma said, looking over at him as he shut the door behind him. She walked over to him, letting him hold his arms around her. She put her hands on his chest looking up at him. "Is this a good thing? That we are having a child? Now, with all that's happening? With the war, and the fighting, is it a good time?"

"There is never a truly best time." Nick said, looking down at her and holding her tight against him. "There is always something - wars, famines, raiders, - they always happen, one after another, going on and on. We can not let those things ruin our lives. Or rule them."

"I guess you are right," She said, resting her head against Nick's chest. "Every time we go to war, Starks, Lannisters, they seem to die. So I suppose, if nothing else, another Stark would be good."

"I'd like to think that our child is going to be born for reasons other than furthering the bloodlines," Nick said, kissing the top of Emma's head. Emma nodded, agreeing with Nick.

The screams could be heard throughout the castle. Not just one, but both of the Stark ladies were giving birth that night. Nick was standing by Emma's side, holding her hand as she pushed. She was squeezing his hand hard, nearly cutting of the blood flow to his fingers. After what, and what most likely was, seemed like hours, Emma finally stopped squeezing Nick's hand, simply holding onto him. He watched as the handmaiden held up their child, bringing it over to Nick. Nick looked down at his daughter, a smile on his face. Nick sat down on the side of Emma's bed, handing their newborn child over to her. She sat there, holding the newborn in her arms, a smile on her face and love in her eyes.The three of them sat there for a while, simply enjoying the company of each other. It wasn't until a half hour had passed until Nick realized that the other sounds of screaming had stopped. Hearing the door behind him open, he turned around, seeing a women walk into the room, a crying child in her arms.

"M'lord, your mother…." The women said, a somber look on her face. Nick went pale, standing up and walking over, taking the screaming infant out of her arms. The child quieted down, looking up at Nick with wide eyes. Nick walked back over to Emma, sitting down and bouncing his younger sister on his leg. She quieted down completely, closing her eyes and falling asleep.

"I'm so sorry, Nick," Emma said, as her daughter fell asleep. "I know what you are going through, and I'm so sorry."

"No," Nick said, silent tears running down his face. "I'm sorry. You lost your father, and your mother basically disowned you, choosing your brothers and sisters over you. I-I never talked with you about that, never gave condolences. I'm sorry."

They sat there, looking at each other. They were sad yet happy, having a new child and sister, yet sad, the full brunt of their recent losses hitting them both hard.

"Ava," Emma said, interrupting the silence. "And Lyanna, after your aunt."

"What?" Nick said, stirring from his thought and breaking the blank stare he had had on his face.

"Their names." Emma said, looking up at Nick, all signs of grief gone. She was stronger than Nick, much stronger. "Our daughter will be Ava, while your sister will be Lyanna."

"I like it," Nick said, smiling down at his infant sister. She would be named Lyanna, named after Nick's aunt who died in the south during Robert's Rebellion. Ava, on the other hand, Nick had no idea where Emma had gotten that name from. But it was fitting. "Ava and Lyanna it is."

Nick looked over, seeing Night pushing the door open with his nose. He jumped up onto the bed, padding over next to Nick and Emma, sniffing the two newborns. Ava woke up looking at the wolf. She reached out, grabbing at the beast's nose. Both of the new parents held their breath, in fear of what would happen. Night stood still for a moment, before he reached out and liked the young Stark's cheek. Giggling, Ava started laughing happily and hugged the wolf's maw. The wolf sat down, protectively putting his maw over Ava. As they all sat there on the bed, the door behind them opened. In walked three of the Lannister men. They were three of the five from the caravan, and they had swords in hand.

"Put down your swords, lads," Nick said, laying the sleeping Lyanna down onto the bed. The direwolf stood up, to the great dismay of Ava. She squealed, reaching back out for her new direwolf friend. The wolf walked over, standing in front of Nick's sister.

The men didn't listen, advancing forward. Suddenly, the man to Nick's right had a sword driven through his chest. The man looked down at the blade, blood starting to drip out of his mouth. The sword was pulled back out, the traitor's corpse falling to the ground. Night lunged forward, grabbing the man on the left by the throat and forcing him onto the ground, tearing out the foe's throat. The man in the middle advanced on Nick, swinging his sword at Nick. Sidestepping, Nick grabbed the handle of the sword, forcing it into the man's side. As the last man fell to the ground, dead, a man with a bloody sword in hand dropped to one knee, laying the sword on the ground. It was the Lannister man who had charged Nick even though the other five of the soldiers with him had been killed, even after he was captured.

"Stand," Nick said, picking up the bloody sword. The man stood, nervous about what would happen. He was a few inches shorter than Nick, with brown eyes and brown hair. The two of them stood there, before Nick handed him the sword. "Clean the blade. Keep it in check. What is your name?"

"Agnus, m'lord," The man said.

"Well, Agnus, I give you command of all Westerlands troops in my employ. Lead them well."

"Thank you, m'lord. I will serve you faithfully to my last breath."

The man nodded, leaving the room. Shortly later several more men came in, moving the bodies out of the room. Emma, however, refused to spend the night in the bloodied room. He moved her and the infants into another room, Night following along behind him. They settled down, Emma feeding Ava and Lyanna. Even though Lyanna wasn't her own, she was family, without a mother. Emma had enough to feed the both of them. Quietly, as the two of them fell asleep, Nick picked them up and placed them in two cradles fashioned for the infant Starks.

"Your turn," Emma said, tired and sleep deprived. It was the third time that night, and the eighth time that week. It had been three weeks since the two girls had been born, so Nick and Emma were still adjusting to the modified sleep schedule of having two infants in their care. Nick stood up, throwing off the furs and walking over to Ava's cradle. It was odd. Whenever Ava cried, Lyanna never stirred, while whenever Lyanna cried, both infants cried. He picked up his daughter, cradling her in his arms. He rocked her slowly, quieting her down. After a few minutes she fell back asleep. Nick put her in the cradle, covering her up. It was cold here, especially for an infant, though not nearly as cold as Winterfell. Climbing back into bed, Nick snuggled up next to Emma, wrapping his arms around her and pulling the furs up over top of them.


	13. Chapter 12

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 12**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Author's Note: Wow. That chapter took a while to write. I didn't imagine that it would take this long. Either way, I hope you readers like it. And I am writing this midnight so there are bound to be mistakes. PM me if you find any that you want me to correct, along with anything you would like to see me do with this series. Any and all feedback is appreciated. I hope you enjoy!_

Nick stood there, on the deck of the ship, looking out over the Narrow Sea. He could see, off in the distance, the sandy shores of Essos. But for the moment, he was sailing north, to White Harbor. From there they would be heading to Winterfell in order to meet up with Robb before he marched south. He had raised the armies of the North, heading south to avenge his father's death and defeat the Lannisters. At this point, it was more of a revenge factor for the war, not a rescue one. Father and Mother were dead, Nick was out of King's Landing, and Arya was with him. But Sansa remained in the nest of vipers. There was no way they would be able to rescue her without a massive siege, as King's Landing had enough troops and food to remain well-fed, at least for the nobles of the court and the richer folks of the city, for several years. A direct assault would not only require massive amounts of troops, but time as well to build the siege equipment required. With only five and twenty thousand men to call upon for war, there was no realistic way the Robb could get his army south, past the Lannister hordes in the Westerlands and the Crownlands. Even if the Riverlands joined them in the war, they then and only then equal in strength to the Lannisters. The Lannisters had at least forty thousand men, most likely more.

Hearing the squealing of a child, Nick turned around, seeing Emma behind him with Ava. Smiling, he walked over to Emma. She was flanked by two guardsmen, and no doubt there were two more guarding Lyanna below deck.

"Hey," Nick said, smiling at Emma. He leaned over, kissing her. He leaned down, kissing the top of Ava's head. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing alright," Emma said, a smile coming to her face. "I'm still trying to get my sea legs."

They stood there for a moment, looking out over the sea. The sky was clear, the sun reflecting off of the blue water. All around them, ships could be seen. Lysa had given them six ships to sail home with. They planned on sailing to White Harbor and from there making their way up the White Knife to Winterfell. She had also given them fifty footmen and archers to defend her niece and nephew. The trip had been uneventful so far, except for a small time when pirates had been spotted on their southernmost side. But there had only been two of them, so they were not worried.

"I think you'll like Winterfell," Nick said, looking over at Emma. They were standing on the side of the ship, leaning against the railing. Ava was asleep, moving around silently in Emma's arms. Emma looked over at Nick, a curious look on her face. "Well yeah, it's cold, but the castle is beautiful. The Godswood is huge, covering three acres. There are these water springs in the castle that are naturally hot, causing you to not need to heat the water up yourself by putting it all over fire."

"Sounds nice," Emma said. "Still, the cold has to be bad."

"It's not too bad, once you get used to it. The cold does cut through thin furs at night though."

They talked for a while, chatting about what was going on in Westeros. There were rumors of Stannis Baratheon revolting against the crown, calling the banners not only of what he controlled, but of what Renly, his brother, controlled. Yet rumor was that Stannis had proclaimed himself king, as had Renly. Renly was far more charismatic, but Stannis was a much better commander of men.

They walked around the ship, spending the rest of the trip chatting, or just simply enjoying one another's company. Arya was on the deck, training with the sword Jon had given her. It was a thin sword, light and quick. It wouldn't be able to stand up to a longsword or a mace in combat, but it would be able to put enough cuts and holes into an enemy before they could raise their blade to swing at you. Nick watched, seeing how different the Braavosi fighting style was from the one he had learned. Arya invited him to join her and Syrio and, as Emma had gone below to rest, Nick joined them. Of the three of them, Syrio was the best swordsman there, rarely getting hit. He had knocked Nick to the deck multiple times, and Arya twice that. But Nick got a few blows in, landing a killing blow now and then. Arya had only hit Syrio once, while he had been locked in a duel with Nick. She had yet to hit Nick, him easily parrying each of her attacks. He had been tempted to let her get him, but thought the better of it. Believing that you had more skill than you really did was a dangerous thing.

It was a few days later they arrived at White Harbor. There Nick met with Lord Manderly, gaining room at the docks for his new ships. The Manderlys were building fleet, one that would be needed in the wars to come. Sadly, in case of Ironborn raiders, the Manderly fleet was on the wrong side of the continent. They rode by horse up to Winterfell, the children held close under layers of clothes and cloaks. Upon arriving, the guards raised the southern gate and let Nick's small host inside. They were greeted in the yard by Bran and Rickon, glad to see their brother and sister once more. Sadly, even though Bran had woken up, he was paralyzed from the waist down, not being able to move his legs at all. Robb was in the Great Hall, eating with his bannermen.

"Robb!" Nick called out, the doors being thrown open. Nick walked in, smile on his face with his wife, the infants, and highest-ranking men at his side. Robb stood up, yelling out happily. The two brothers ran at each other, hugging. It had been a year since they had seen each other. Breaking apart, Nick began to speak, "Robb, this is Emma, my wife. And this is our daughter, Ava."

"Good to meet you, my lady," Robb said, greeting his sister by law. He looked down at his niece, smile on his face. Gesturing to Lyanna, he said, "And who is this?"

"This is Lyanna," Nick said, his smile turning from happy to slightly sad. "Our sister. Mother was with child, and died birthing her in the Eyrie. Her body was sent back to Riverrun."

"Oh my," Robb said, taking his infant sister and holding her. As they stood there talking, the rest of Nick's party went into the hall, sitting at tables and drinking, eating, taking part in the feast. Arya ran up, hugging Robb. He was happy to see her, handing Lyanna to Nick. The group of them went to the raised dais at the end of the hall, sitting down. Old Nan was there, with a group of handmaidens, taking away the infants to be cared for. Emma was stressed to let Ava go, having not been separated since her birth. Nick assured her Ava would be fine, sending several of the northern men serving him to guard her.

"Lords and Ladies of the North!" Robb yelled out, standing. He had Eddard's commanding voice, but not his look. The Northern look was more in Nick and Arya than in any of the other Stark children. Bran had some, and Robb had more, but it was mostly in Arya and Nick. "We gather here to begin our march on the Lannisters! They have killed my Lord father, they hold my sister captive. They tried to kill my brother, and my sister. We march to avenge my father, to save my sister! Now let us enjoy this good night, for there will be many more hard ones after this. We will not always have this food, and this comfort, but we will have victory!"

The Lords and Ladies, captains and knights, all the men and women in the Great Hall cheered, calling for more rounds and more food. As the Hall grew louder, Emma smiled weakly, sipping on a glass of watered-down wine. Nick had a mug of ale, as did Robb. They weren't drinking by the barrel, but they were still drinking. Nick, wisely, cut himself off at the bottom of his first mug. Robb, however, did not do the same. He had three, by Nick's count. But what did it matter, as they were going war.

"Nick," Robb said, speaking closely into Nick's ear in order to be heard over the din of the hall. "There is news of Stannis declaring open rebellion. Renly has done the same."

"Yes," Nick said, leaning in closer. "I heard the same rumors."

"Well, Stannis has proclaimed, not for himself, but for your wife, Emma Baratheon."

"Stark."

"What, brother?"

"Stark. She is a Stark now."

"Ah," Robb said, a smile on his face. Speaking sarcastically, he said, "So there's the chance of a Stark sitting the Iron Throne?"

"We should be wed," Nick said, laughing along with Robb. "In the godswood, under the Old Gods. We were wed in the Sept of Baelor down in King's Landing."

"Alright," Robb said, nodding. "What about Lyanna? With Mother gone, who will care for her? I am hesitant to leave her here, in Winterfell, yet hesitant as well to bring her south with me."

"Well," Nick said, thinking. "I could serve as your ambassador. To Stannis and Renly, and for Emma. I would bring Lyanna with me, keeping her safe. Rickon as well. Bran would have to remain here, as there must always be a Stark at Winterfell."

"I agree. You are the better skilled of the group of us. Although, keeping all the youngest of the Starks in one place seems . . . unwise. Still, with your skill . . . "

"What of Arya? See would be angered by being left behind while we all march off to war."

"We can send her with you as well. That Braavosi with her, Syrio? He can train her, and defend her along with Rickon."

"He could train Rickon as well. Even if he is only six, it is never to early to start."

"Well, I should get around to other guests," Robb said, smiling and standing up. "I'll talk to you later, brother."

Robb stood up, steadying himself on the table, and walked over to the other Lords and Ladies. Manderly, Glover, Flint, Karstark, Bolton. He met with them, laughing alongside them. Nick watched him walk away, and he turned and talked with Emma. She was anxious to leave, to get back to her daughter and sister by law. Standing, the two of them excused themselves from the table, heading back to the room Nick had slept in for most of his life. It had been a year since he and Emma had shared the bed after she was attacked, when they had fallen asleep next to each other. The room looked just the same as it did when he had left, the bookshelves bare except for a few books here and there. He smiled, walking over to the corner of the room where two small cradles sat, lined with fur and small, infant-sized furs lying over top of two sleeping babies. As he came over, Ava woke up, looking up at him and cooing softly, reaching up for him.

He scooped her up, cradling her in his arms. He sat on the bed, lying down with his daughter in his arms. Emma layed down next to him, going on her side and facing Nick. He moved Ava over, resting her in between them. She looked at the two of them, cooing softly and reaching up, grabbing at the two of them. Emma fell asleep like this, next to her daughter and husband. Nick waited until his wife and daughter were asleep, then picked up Ava, moving her back to the cradle next to the bed. Climbing back into bed, he put his arm protectively over her and fell asleep, his wife in his arms.

The next morning Nick woke up, seeing his wife and daughter asleep. He slipped out of the furs, getting up and getting dressed. Emma stirred, blinking the sleep out of eyes. She stood up, walking over to Nick, her nakedness forgotten. She came up behind him, twisting her arms around him.

"Hey," Emma said sleepily, a smile on her face. "Where are you sneaking off to, so early in the morning?"

"I needed to visit Robb before we left tomorrow, and I needed to check on Claire."

"Who's she? Do I need to be worried? Or jealous?"

"Not at all," Nick said, laughing quietly to himself. He turned around, hugging Emma and kissing. "You'll never have anything to worry about."

"Aww, how sweet," She said, kissing him back. "But really, who is she?"

"The wife of one of the men who died under my command," Nick said, his face changing to a sad sort of smile. "Jory. Brilliant fighter. Took down a few enemies before he was killed."

"I'm sorry," Emma said, matching Nick's sad smile with her own. Suddenly Ava stirred behind Nick, crying out silently at them. Emma stepped back, walking over to her and picking her up.

"Claire was pregnant when we left," Nick told Emma. "I wanted to check on her. Take her with us, when we head south, if she can move."

"It's alright," Emma said, turning back towards Nick. "Go check up her. I can deal with Ava."

Nodding, Nick walked out their room, closing the door and smiling at Emma as he left. She smiled back at him, holding Ava close as she began to feed her.

Walking away from their room, Nick made his way down into the yard. He walked over to the small stone house that Jory and his wife lived in. Knocking on the door, he was allowed entrance. Opening the door, Nick saw Claire sitting in a rocking chair with her child in her lap. She looked up, recognizing Nick's familiar face. He had grown up being tutored by Jory, with the man teaching him the ways of sword, mace, and lance. Ser Rodrik had taught him as well, but it was truly Jory who Nick had grown closest to.

"Oh, hello Nick," Claire said, looking up at him. She smiled at him. "This is my son, Rodrik. I-I heard the news about Jory. Is it true?"

"Sadly, it's true." Nick said, looking over at Claire. "He died bravely."

"Yeah, I know," Claire said, looking down at the ground. He could see that her eyes were red from crying. "I heard that you have a daughter of your own."

"I do. My father wed me to the King's daughter. Our girl, Ava, was born a month or two ago in the Vale," Nick said as he walked over and sat down in a chair across from her.

"Do you love her?"

"I do, quite a bit."

"Then hold onto that. Hold on for as long as you can and never let go."

"Thank you for the advice," Nick said, nodding at Claire. "I wanted to ask you something. I am heading down south on behalf of Robb, and I am taking Emma, along with the rest of the Starks other than Brandon and Robb, with me. Would you and Rodrick care to join us?"

"Yes, I think we would," Claire said, holding her son against her. "But only if Beth, Ser Rodrik's daughter, could join us."

"Of course."

The two of them chatted for a while, discussing the rumors that were floating around the castle. Ser Rodrik had already approved of sending his daughter and namesake with them, Claire informed Nick, as she had asked him when Nick had arrived. Nick had simply saved her the trouble of having to go and find him and asking him.

Time passed, as it does, and before Nick knew it he had to leave if he wanted a chance to speak with Robb. He excused himself, telling Claire when to meet for when they were to leave.

Nick walked back across the yard, making his way to the Great Hall. He pushed the doors open, walking over to Robb. Greeting him, Nick led the two of them off to speak privately.

"What is it, brother?" Robb said, annoyed. The preparations for moving thousands of men were tedious, to say the least.

"I wanted to speak to you, regarding Ice. I have it with me, up in my room."

"Ah, yes, I expected this conversation to happen sooner or later." Robb said, cracking a smile and chuckling quietly to himself. "You keep it."

"Are you sure? You are my elder, and the head of the Starks."

"Yes, and you are a much more skilled swordsman. The sword will be safer, and have better use, in your possession."

"Very well then." With this Nick bowed with his head at Robb, walking back to his room.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Robb said, voice frosting in the cold night air. Around him stood the Lords and Ladies visiting Winterfell, tightly bundled against the cold.

"Emma, of the House Baratheon, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes here to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Nicholas, of the House Stark, heir to Winterfell." Nick said, speaking loudly and clearly. It had been Robb's idea, to be married under the Old Gods. Despite already being married, their wedding in the Sept was not binding to the Lords of the North. "Who gives her?"

"Agnus, soldier in the employ of Nicholas Stark, trusted advisor and commander."

"Lady Emma," Robb said, breath frosting even more than before. The Stark words remained true, now more than ever. Winter is coming. And the war must be over when it does, or they would all starve. "Do you take this man?"

"I take this man."

With this the ceremony was done, far shorter than the first wedding. Nick took Emma by the hand, leading her to the Great Hall. They sat on the dais, having the second feast in a row. Returning to their bedchambers, they enjoyed their second wedding night as much as they had the first. The next morning they made their way down to the yard, the infants with them. They met with Arya and Rickon, gathering their things and putting them onto carts. Hugging Robb goodbye, Nick watched as Robb commanded the men. They were all marching away on the same day, though Robb and his army would be leaving much later. Bran came out, being carried by Hodor. They hugged him goodbye, departing. The next day they arrived at White Harbor, taking the six ships Nick had gotten from the Vale and four more contributed by the Manderlys. Robb had also given a hundred troops, with provisions for their trip. Now, with over two hundred men at his command, Nick wasn't as worried about their safety. They would fall to any large enemy force, but there were enough of them to beat a small-sized opponent army. The ships were crewed as well, enough men to properly sail across the Narrow Sea.

"Hello brother," Nick said, joining Rickon at the bow of the ship. They looked out over the sea, watching as Dragonstone slowly came into view, the rocks looming over them. "How goes the watch?"

"Well," The six year-old said, looking up at Nick. He smiled, glad to seeing the southern world he had only read about. "I saw some fish."

"Nice!" Nick said, smiling at his younger brother. He reached down, ruffling the top of his head. In truth Nick had seen much more, spotting pirates in the distance. But he made no mention of this to Rickon, not wanting to scare the young child. He could see birds circling in sky above, searching for a place to land. He looked over at the two infants, lying in the arms of Emma and her handmaidens. Arya was sitting with them on the deck, holding her sister Lyanna. Arya had a faint smile on her face, happy that she had a sister younger than her. Ava and Lyanna were lying there with a smile on their faces, looking up at the birds, grabbing at them even though they were high up in the sky.

Nick watched as Rickon ran over to Arya and Lyanna, sitting down next to them and watching the latter. Looking back out over the water, he spotted their destination, a camp on the shoreline. They were past Dragonstone and Stonedance, in a small natural bay near Haystack Hall. The ships landed, unloading the troops off of them. Nick walked down a wooden plank, meeting with the group that was in front of him. Emma had followed him, standing behind him with Ava in her arms. The other three Starks were behind Nick, Lyanna being held by a handmaiden. Arya and Rickon stepped up next to Nick, standing to his left while Emma was on his right.

"My Queen," Stannis said, kneeling down in front of Emma. The soldiers behind him did the same, as did a woman all dressed in red. Emma handed Ava to Nick, taking a step forward. As she did, Renly did the same, kneeling before his Queen. All their troops did the same. Emma commanded them to rise, and the two Baratheon brothers did.

They walked, Nick's troops forming out behind him. Twenty men were left to guard the ships, and the brothers each left double that. The rest of Nick's two hundred men followed him and Emma, making their way into the Baratheon camps. The men, with Nick's leave, made camp next to the Baratheons. Looking out over the camp, could see the Baratheon banners of Stannis and Renly, along with the banners of Seaworth, Florent, Caron, and many others, along with the banners of the Reach and the Stormlands, with the Tyrell banner flapping proudly in the wind. Entering the main tent, Nick saw Ser Loras sitting with his elder brother, Lord Garlan. Lord Mace was standing, awaiting the return of the brothers.

"My Queen," Mace said, bowing to Emma. She walked over, taking her seat at the head of the table. There were two chairs there, so Nick went to sit. Putting his hand on the arm of the chair, he looked up as Stannis did the same. They locked eyes, staring each other down.

"Who are you?" Stannis said, looking Nick in the eyes and squinting at him. He had not been present for their wedding, so he did not recognize Nick.

"Nicholas Stark, husband of your Queen. Step aside."

"Apologies, my King," Stannis said, stepping aside. He went and sat down in the chair to Nick's immediate right, Renly seating himself across from Stannis. The rest of the Starks sat down next, on the same side of the table as Stannis, with the Tyrells across from them. Many other minor lords and ladies were seated after them, with no one seated at the opposite end of the table. Nick held the sleeping Ava in his arms, holding her close to his body.

"I wish to congratulate you, My Queen, on your marriage. I assume the child is your daughter?" Stannis said, addressing Emma. Receiving a nod from her, he began to speak again. "I wish for you to know you have my full support. I will see you seated on the Iron Throne." Stannis's words were echoed by others at the table, Renly and the Tyrells as well.

"That is good," Emma said, a smile on her face. "But I am not here seeking your swords. I am here with my husband on behalf of Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell, seeking an alliance with my Uncles. We are both waging war against the Lannisters, pushing claims of revenge and descent."

"Well," Stannis said, looking at Emma. "I will fight for you, my Queen, and with the Starks. But you are our Queen and I fight for you."

"Same here," Renly said, nodding at them. "We have more troops. Better troops. We can take King's Landing." The idea was protested, almost immediately, by others at the table.

"As green as he is," Stannis said, jesting with his brother. "He does have a point. We can take the city while the rest of the Lannister forces are in the west, fighting the Starks."

"Then it's a plan," Lord Mace Tyrell said, addressing the entire table. "On to King's Landing!"

The call was echoed up and down the table, with the various Lords and Ladies all cheering for their Queen. Nick looked at those people, whose troops he would be leading in battle against their common enemies. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock.


	14. Chapter 13

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 13**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Author's Note: One year has passed since the last chapter at the beginning of this one. Three have passed since the beginning of the GoT main storyline by the end of this chapter. I hope you guys like this chapter! I want to know what you think about a certain character at the end of this Chapter, one that was killed off in season one. (I'm not going to kill him off, I just actually want to know.)_

Nick stood there on the deck of the Black Betha. He stood next to Ser Davos, leading the fleet into Blackwater Bay. There were hundreds of ships behind them, sailing towards King's Landing. The previous day there had been a small skirmish with the enemy fleet, several small ships. They had been defeated easily, two being set ablaze and the others being boarded. Their captain, a man by the name of Jinth, had fought Nick in single combat when he led the boarding party. Nick had killed him with Ice, cutting him down. Several others had tried to kill Nick, each of them receiving blows to their arms and torsos. He cut them down as well, blood spraying out with each slash.

"Archers!" Nick called out raising his hand into the air. A single ship was sailing towards them. Some cog, with no visible crew. "Flame arrows!" As he was giving the command, Ser Davos turned the ship so it's side was facing the enemy. "Knock! Draw! Loose!" The archers fired, sending streaks of burning light across the sky. The command had been echoed by several of the other ships, with several waiting to see if they could board the ship. As the arrows thudded into the unmanned vessel, it passed by them, green liquid trailing from stern. One of the arrows struck the liquid, setting it ablaze. The fire trailed up to the ship, exploding with a sickening crack. A green fire shot out, setting the closest ships on fire and sending men over the sides of others. Yet the fleet pushed onwards, drums beating loudly. They sailed around the burning ships, landing on the beach in front of the city walls. The second portion of the fleet remained behind them, carrying the majority of their troops. Looking behind him, he could see two towers that were on either side of the entrance of the bay. A landing party was attacking those towers, and from here Nick could see the arrows being loosed by attackers and defenders, bodies dropping down from the towers as arrows found their marks. One of the towers had already fallen, enemy bodies being thrown down from the top of the battlements.

Turning his attention back to the problem in front of him, Nick stumbled on his feet as the ship ran aground. "Forward, men, to battle!" Yelling out, Nick drew the bastard sword from his waist. He lifted up his shield, jumping off the side of the ship. He could hear the thuds of the men behind him as they jumped down onto the sandy beach. It was the dead of night, but it looked like daytime. The ships were burning where the cog had blown up, and pots of wildfire were being thrown by giant catapults at them. He looked back quickly, watching as one of the ships went up in flames, first one, then two pots hitting her. Men were jumping overboard, trying to put themselves out.

He faced front, running forward straight at the walls. He heard the sounds of arrows thudding against his shield. It was steel, wrapped in leather with the direwolf of the Starks emboldened on the front of it. Men around him were being hit in the chest with arrows, sending them down to the ground. He pushed forward, running at the city walls. He slammed against the wall, holding the shield above him. The walls were curved where he was, blocking the enemy from hitting him. He had sailed out with fifty of his men with him, and he could see them running to cover. The rest were on Dragonstone, guarding Emma and the little ones. Night was with them too, protectively sitting at the foot of a dresser that Ava and Lyanna's cradles had been propped up on. He looked at the men running across the beach, watching as man after man after man was cut down by arrows. The men were carrying ladders, several managing to get them propped up against the walls. But even then soldiers were cut down as they made it close, falling down from the ladders. Waving his sword, Nick ran out, shield above his head. He ran up the ladder, arrows raining down onto him. He felt a small stinging in his arm, ignoring it and continuing on. Looking to his right, he saw Stannis standing atop the battlements. He was swinging left and right, cutting down the Lannister and city watchmen. He jumped down, cutting a path as men streamed up past him. Nick looked up just as the ladder was thrown down, sending him down onto his back. He lay there for several minutes, gasping for air. Finally standing up, he pushed off the ground with his sword. Looking over, he saw the battering ram slamming away at the gate, the gate buckling under the weight and force. He ran over, leaping over fallen men, slamming up against the door. The gate was ready to give at any moment, and there were more than enough men at the ready to take the city. Of their nearly one hundred twenty thousand men, eighty thousand of them were pushing forward on the beach. The rest were spread out, surrounding the city, and pushing in on all sides. The idea was to disguise which flank would be receiving the most attention, but the real battle had begun on the sea flank.

Around the corner, Nick looked and saw as a Lannister force came running around the corner. At the head of them was a dwarf, battle-ax in hand, screaming bloody murder. They caught the attackers by surprise, killing off nearly the entire crew around the ram. Nick, waving his sword in the air, ran straight at the new foes. He slammed the first one with a shield, stunning the man. He then swung, severing the man's neck from his shoulders in it's entirety. Twirling around, he cut the next man across the chest, slicing through the thin armor with ease. Fighting the next man, Nick parried the sword blow with ease, driving the sword through his foe's throat. Drawing it back out, he pushed forward, driving back the wave of soldiers. Suddenly he looked off to his right, seeing more ships landing. Out of them poured fresh troops, all well rested and awaiting battle. They fell in behind Nick, pushing against the Lannister troops. They shoved the enemy back through the small side gate they had come from, pushing through it. Nick led the charge, leading the men through the passway and out into the yard behind the gate. Looking up, Nick spotted Stannis up on the wall, kicking the last of the defenders off. The body fell to the ground with a sickening thud, dead.

The army pushed onward, through the streets of the city. They ran along, killing any Lannister soldiers they came across, pushing towards the Red Keep. They ran forward, protecting the men carrying the ladders. Using them they got up the walls, killing the opponents as they came. They threw the gates open, letting the rest of the men stream into the innermost part of the city.

Nick and Stannis stood in the yard as their men pushed through the city. Their men were pushing forward, taking the city. The two of them stood there, panting. Nick looked down at the sword, blood dripping off the end of it into a small pool on the ground. Hearing someone run up to them, he looked up and Renly standing there, panting as well. Blood was splattered across his steel plate, as opposed to Nick's chainmail, fur, and leather and Stannis's leather and plate. Renly was in full plate, shining against the glow of the fire. Nick and Stannis's were covered with blood, soaking into their leather and staining it.

"The city is ours," Renly said, lifting the visor of his helm up. The two of them cracked smiles, laughing with each other. But Stannis just said, "The war must still be won."

"M'lords," A soldier said, running up to Nick and the Baratheon brothers, out of breath.

"Catch your breath, young lad," Nick said, patting the soldier on the back. "Speak."

"M'lords, Lady Cersei can not be found. Neither can Lady Stark."

"Fine," Nick said, his brow furrowing. "Go. Keep looking."

The soldier ran off, running back to the Keep. Looking at each other, the three of them took on solemn looks. Nick left, walking up to the top of the inner wall. Looking out over the city, he saw the Lannister banner being raised. 'Wait, raised? That's not right." He looked over at the three giant catapults. There were Lannister men on them. He watched as they launch pots of wildfire into the inner Keep. Watching the fire arc over him, he saw as they sailed into the Red Keep. They smashed through the windows, sailing into the halls. They were empty, all ornaments and curtains, even the Iron Throne, were gone. After they set fire to the Keep, the catapults turned to the fleet out in the Bay. Nick could do nothing but watch as the wildfire consumed everything, destroying the docked ships.

Running through the city streets, Nick ran to the catapults. He killed the crew before they could do much more damage. But it was already done. Most of the fleet was destroyed, and the Lannister men were pouring in through the gates. Nick led a group of men out of a gate near the water, making his way for the towers. The ships there were untouched by wildfire.

Reaching the ships, Nick and his group boarded one of them. Nick took the wheel, pulling her out into the bay. Several of the Baratheon ships followed him, making for the safety of Dragonstone. They still had nearly twenty thousand men on board the reserve ships, not having met the enemy on the field of battle. As they sailed towards Dragonstone, a fleet of ships pulled up around their flank, descending upon the Baratheon fleet. The rear of the fleet was boarded and captured, or sunk.

Nick stood on the tallest point of Dragonstone, looking out over Blackwater Bay. The ships were burning in the night, creating a warm glow. The fleet was nearly completely destroyed, with only twenty of the ships remaining. There were only five thousand men of the twenty and one hundred thousand they had set out with. Of the fifty men Nick had gone out with, twenty had died on the beaches and twenty more taking, then losing, the city. Ser Preston and Ser Barristan had remained with the Queen, along with the rest of their men.

"My King," A man said, causing Nick to turn around and look at the source of the voice. He saw two men, Ser Guyard Morrigen the Green and Ser Robar Royce the Red. They were two of Renly's seven Rainbow Guards, who had defended him in battle and led his armies. "Renly...Renly is dead, killed in battle."

"Stannis?" Nick said, turning around and facing the capital of Westeros.

"He is in his chambers, refusing to see anyone but the priestess."

"Very well. What do you want with me?"

"We are here, My King," The former began, speaking to Nick. "To join your cause. We failed Renly, when he was slain by wildfire, but we will not fail you."

"Very well. Go speak to Ser Barristan." Nodding, the men begged their leave. They headed down, leaving Nick where he was.

After nearly half an hour, Nick walked down the steps towards his wife's chambers. Pushing the door open, Emma looked up at him, their daughter in her lap. She looked into his eyes, smiling at first. She realized, a moment latter, by the look on his that the battle had not gone well.

"Didn't go well?" She asked, looking at him.

"Not at all," Nick said, sitting down on the side of the bed and reaching over, ruffling the little hair that was on top of Ava's head. "We lost most of the men and fleet. Only five of a hundred and twenty."

"Oh my," Emma said. She looked sad. Despite not wanting the battle to happen, she had hoped for victory, as had they all. "Where will we go?"

"I don't know. We can't head north as the ships to our north will spot us and chase us down. We can't head south for much of the same reasons."

"And not west…."

"Leaving the east? But where..."

"The Dragon Queen?" Nick said, thinking. "But you father was the Usurper who took her family's throne."

"Yet he had some form of just cause." Emma said, reaching over and putting her hand on Nick's. Ava looked at the two of them, her eyes and her mouth wide open. "His love and her brother and father were all killed by the Mad King. My father surely meant no ill will to her, or her brother."

"Then that will be where we must go," Nick said, taking Emma's hand. "Even if she doesn't you there, I am a valuable warrior. And a Stark as well."

"I hope to see you again," Nick said, standing on the pier on the eastern side of Dragonstone. He had the ten ships he had from when he sailed south, along with three from Stannis. Five hundred of Stannis's men would be joining them, fighting by Nick's side in the battles to come. He shook hands with his uncle by law, a smile on his face. He walked up the plank of his flagship, The Maiden Fair, and stood at the helm. His helmsman took the wheel, taking them out to sea. Stannis would be firing several catapults at the Lannister ships, attempting to force them to pull back allowing Nick to leave. He had Emma, Ava, Lyanna, Ary, Rickon, Claire, Beth, and Rodrik all on his flagship, thinking that they would be safest the closer they were to him.

They sailed out, hearing the thuds of giant rocks being thrown at the opposing ships. They sailed east for a while, eventually turning south and following the Essosi coastline. They sailed completely around the Valyrian Peninsula, not wanting to risk smashing the fleet to pieces against exposed rocks. Pulling around the far eastern side, Nick looked at the eastern coast of Slaver's Bay and spotted the smoke rising of a sacked city and saw the army marching North on Yunkai, the Targaryen banner flying high above the ranks of men.

They sailed alongside the coast, attempting to send signals to the army. Eventually the maester traveling with them sent a raven to the Targaryen Queen. Nick watched as the bird flew to it's mark. The Queen stopped, taking the bird and reading the message. She halted the army, looking over at the ships and throwing the raven back. Nick read the recieving message, which read, "Come ashore, Stark,"

"Who would seek audience with her Majesty Daenerys Targaryen," Missandei said, talking to Nick and Emma as they kneeled before her. Ava was on board the ship, as were the rest of the Starks and Cassels, in case something went wrong. "Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, Khaleesi of the Green Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons?"

"I, Ser Nicholas Stark, heir to Winterfell," Nick said, looking up at the Queen. He had been named a Knight of Winterfell a month or two ago, when he had saved a small village they had been staying at from pirate raiders. He had been the only one of the thirty men staying in the village with him that had awoken when they came. He slew a dozen and a half before he was able to rouse the rest of the men. Ser Barristan had Knighted him afterward. "And my Lady Wife, Emma of the Houses Stark and Baratheon."

"Baratheon? As in the family of the usurper who murdered my brother and stole my father's crown?"

"Yes, your grace," Nick said, looking straight into Daenerys's eyes. "But she had no part in the crimes of her father, as you had no part in the crimes of yours."

"Very well," Daenerys said, thinking over Nick's words. "I am a young girl, and new to the ways of politics, but it seems like I have a chance to make new allies, correct?" Looking over at her counselors, she smiled at them as they nodded to her. "Leave us."

With this Nick watched as all the people there walked out. There were twenty people there, not counting Nick's group or the Queen's guards. Filing out, most of them left until only Nick, Emma, Ser Preston, Ser Barristan, and Angus remained. Missandei and several Unsullied remained, along with some Westerosi knight with a bear emblazoned across his chest. Nick recognized the symbol as House Mormont, and with the only other male Mormont being Jeor, Lord commander of the Night's Watch, it must be Ser Jorah, exiled to Essos for selling to slavers.

"Are you the Lord of House Stark?" Daenerys said, looking down on the still-kneeling Starks and Queensguard. "Oh, you may stand now."

"Yes, your grace," Nick said, rising to his feet and helping Emma to her's. She had been feeling sick the past few days, so Nick was worried if she was coming down with something. "My brother was...murdered. We received word several days ago."

"My condolences," Daenerys said, nodding to them. Suddenly, behind her, three shapes began to move. Nick had thought them to be exotic furs, but they were dragons. Each the size of a dog, they sleepily put their heads onto her legs. From behind their wings, now moved, Nick could see a small toddler. The child looked to be about two, skin matching that of a Dothraki rider. The toddler woke up, waddling over towards its mother. "This is my son, Rhaego. Do you have children of your own?"

"We do, my Queen," Emma said, smiling at Daenerys. "A girl, by the name of Ava. She is two."

"Now, I assume you are here to give me your support?" Dany said, looking over at the group of them. She picked up her son, holding him close against herself.

"We are, your grace."

"Well, then, we have a problem. You see, your claim on the throne is by your father, who stole my throne."

"I will gladly surrender my claim to you, disavowing it for me, my children, and my children's children, and all of my descendants to come."

"Very well then. They you no longer have your claim, and you swear by the Old Gods and the New that you shall never again push it in war?"

"Yes, your grace, I swear."

"Then let your people ashore, and join my army."

"I shall make the arrangements," Nick said, nodding to the Queen and his wife. He smiled, glad for the new arrangements they were making. His children would be safe, should they win the war, and wouldn't have to their lives worrying about how they were going to rule when they were older.

Excusing himself from her presence, Nick left Emma in the makeshift tent that Queen Daenerys was using. The light blinded him, the harsh sun of Essos being a large difference from the darkness of the tent. He walked down to the shore, drawing a white piece of cloth out from his pocket. He waved it at the ships. It was their prearranged signal. Should he wave it, it meant that all was good.


	15. Chapter 14

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 14**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._

 _Author's Note: Okay. I few things._

 _1) This story is told almost entirely from Nick' perspective. As such, he doesn't know much about other parts of Westeros. He knows about the Red Wedding from letters sent by the Freys, Boltons, and Lannisters, but doesn't know about Sansa. All he knows is that she wasn't in King's Landing when he attacked._ _He doesn't know much about Jon, as Jon is a bastard serving in the Night's Watch._

 _2) Joffrey wasn't disinherited or locked up because_ _he is the eldest son of the King and, as such, recieved a firm talking to._

 _3) Lady is alive in this. The only dead direwolf is Grey Wind._

 _4) Robb rode south, burned a few things, learned of Ned's death, rode back North to once Nick sent him a letter about heading to Winterfell, met with him, rode south again, fought a few battles (Whispering Woods), went up to the Freys for his uncle's wedding, and died_

 _5) The other Starks went with Nick because I wanted them to._

 _6) They didn't call her Queen Emma because she didn't want to atract attention. Calling someone Queen seems to do that._

 _7) The attack, despite there being ~500 men, was only on one section of the column. They were long and drawn out due to the slow-moving wheelhouse compared to the fast-moving horsemen. The attack was on a single weak point, not on all 500 soldiers at once._

 _8) Nick, Emma, Catelyn, and the others stayed in the Vale for a few reasons. One, to visit with Lysa who none of them have seen in years. Two, the Vale was the safest place to be. There are pirates out to sea and war on land, but not in the Vale. Three, Nick didn't want to risk bringing two pregnant women on a ship for a month._

 _9) And yes, I know some dates have been changed around to fit my plot. But that's why they call it FanFiction._

Nick sat atop his horse, riding just behind the head of the column. Daenerys was in front of him, riding her white stallion. Next to her was Ser Jorah, protecting his Queen. Emma, Arya, and Rickon rode to Nick's right, and he was on the far left side. Sers Preston, Guyard, and Robar were all to Nick's left, intermingled with the Starks. Ser Barristan rode up to Nick's side, talking to him.

"My Lord," The knight said, speaking to Nick. "I wish to be released from your service."

"Whatever for, Ser Barristan?" Nick said, mock surprise on his face. In fact, he had anticipated this conversation, ever since they had met with the Queen. "It will be a great thing, losing your sword."

"I served you because of your wife," Ser Barristan said. "She was the rightful Queen, but she has relinquished her claim."

"Of course, Ser. I would expect nothing less from a honorable knight such as yourself."

"Thank you, my lord."

Nick watched as the old knight rode off, going to offer his services to the Queen. He was sad to lose his services, but he knew it was for the best. The Queen would need good swords by her side in the wars to come.

"What was that about?" Emma said, riding over to Nick and pulling up alongside of him. The troops were marching at just above a walking speed, marching down the road. There was little strain being put on the horses, not needing to ride hard.

"Ser Barristan has left our service. He joins the Queen, forming her Kingsguard."

"I assumed as much," Emma said, looking at Nick. The other three knights in their service would remain, though, serving them and House Stark. It was several minutes before Nick spoke again.

"I am kind of glad that you are no longer the Queen. We won't have the wealth associated with kings, but we won't have the worry or the fuss. Our children will grow up safe from the knives of the throne, living in the North."

"Maybe," Emma said, furrowing her brow and thinking. "But will they grow up well? It's cold, and it unforgiving."

"But they'll have their father, who grew up in the North," Nick said, looking over at Emma. He took her hand, smiling at her. "They'll have their siblings, and their uncles and aunts. They'll have many Northern men to protect them, to defend them from harm. And most of all, their mother will be there to help and protect them, to lead them, to teach them the ways of the world."

"I'd kiss you now, but…" Emma said, smiling, and looking down at the space in between their horses.

"Come here," Nick said, smiling. He reached over, holding onto her waist and locking his feet into the stirrups. He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and putting her in front of him. He reached his arms around, taking the reins of the horse and whipping the horse forward. They galloped forward, past the Queen and off the road into the open field to the right of the column. He stopped the horse, kissing Emma's neck. She pushed back against his chest, her head going over his shoulder. He left her neck, putting his hand behind her head and kissing her. They sat there, kissing back and forth. Finally, Nick broke off, looking up at the column moving by. They had attracted attention from some of the men, receiving smirks. Nick gave her a small last peck on the cheek, before he took the reins and led the horse back to his place in the column. As he rode by Daenerys, she turned her head on it's side, looking at Nick and Emma curiously. He looked back, saying, "What?"

They rode back, ignoring the looks from the soldiers and Starks. Emma looked back at Nick, smiling at him. They rode on, Nick holding his arms around Emma. Emma leaned back against him, putting her chin against her shoulder and her head against his shoulder, looking up at Nick. He looked down at her, smiling at her, and kissing her.

"I love you," Nick said, looking down at his wife. He kissed her again, putting his arms around her stomach and holding her

"I love you too," Emma said, smiling back at him. She took his hands, holding him closer to her. It took Nick a moment, but he felt what it was she was moving his hands to feel. Looking down at her, his eyes went wide and his mouth broke a smile.

"Really?"

"Yes!" Emma kissed him, holding him tight. Nick kissed her back, holding his wife. They broke apart, Nick keeping his arms around her waist. Anticipating his question, Emma said, "Not long, I only figured it out when my stomach started to grow. I had my guess when I was late, but now I know for certain."

"I'm sorry about this, though," Nick said, hugging her tighter. "It had only been two years since Ava."

"It's fine, Nick," She said, reaching up and putting her hand on Nick's cheek. She kissed him, holding him. "It truly is. I'm glad we're having another child."

Ser Barristan rode over to them, hand on the hilt of his sword. His head was on a swivel, watching for any threat to the Queen or Prince. "The Queen has requested your presence." With this he turned the horse around, trotting back to the Queen. Kicking his horse, Nick sped up next to the knight.

"My Queen," Nick said, reaching the Targaryen. Emma nodded, snuggling back into Nick's chest. She held his hands protectively around her gut, glad he was right behind her. "You called for us?"

"I did," She said, smiling at the young couple. "I wished to speak with you. We still have many days before we reach Yunkai, and I would not like to spend them entirely in the company of old knights and crafty advisors, seeking nothing but ways to gain more power from me. Why do you join me? My father killed your uncle, and your grandfather."

"Your grace," Nick began, clearing his throat. "Your grace, you are not your father. You had no part in his crimes. We came to you because you were our only chance. My brother, at the time, was far in the west, out of reach. Our path back North was blocked by the enemy, as was the southern path. You were our only chance at survival, of revenge against the Lannisters."

"Tell me of the Battle of Blackwater Bay," Daenerys said, looking at the young knight. "Ser Barristan has told me of the battle, the chaos of it."

"Yes, it was chaotic," Nick said, taking on a grim look. He didn't like mentioning the battle, after the grievous defeat they had suffered there. "We should have won the battle, but the Lannister forces had wildfire. They burnt our ships in the bay, and our troops in the city. We had captured the Red Keep, but the Lannisters set the place on fire. They killed Emma's uncle, Renly, and several thousand of our troops. The men broke and ran, fleeing the death and destruction in the city. I had nearly twenty thousand with me when we fled on ships, but we were set upon by the Lannister fleet. Only five thousand returned to Dragonstone, and I took five hundred with me when I left for your court. I collected volunteers during the way here, and with the troops I already had, I have eight hundred men, ready to fight at your command."

"My condolences for your losses. But I can assure you, those men will be avenged."

"Thank you, your grace. The only good thing was that the Lannisters burned down half the city with the wildfire."

"A small victory in a sea of defeat."

"Yes, your grace."

"And my congratulations," Daenerys said, smiling at them. "On your new child."

"You know?" Nick said, astonished.

"Yes, she does," Emma said, smiling and looking up at Nick. "We girls talk. We are both young mothers, new to raising children."

Nick just smiled, leaning down and kissing the top of Emma's head. He loved this woman, all that she was. She was beautiful, smart, kind, everything that would be needed in a mother, even with her young age. She was eighteen, and he was nineteen. Despite their age, they were madly in love. Their second child was on the way, and the first was as healthy as ever. Ava had met Rhaego, and the two of them had spent some time playing together. Ava had Nick's black hair, but thankfully not Nick's eyes. He had always hated the grey, despite the family colors of his house. Thinking on it, Nick realized that both he and Emma had black hair, so there was no true way to tell which of their hair Ava had.

They marched for the next few weeks, eventually arriving at Yunkai. Upon reaching the city, they realized that the enemy numbers had grown. Two thousand sellswords of the Second Sons, mounted. They were armored, and would wreck havoc in their lines. There were more of the Targaryen supporters than of the Yunkai warriors, but the mounted armor would deal heavy damage to the Unsullied. Daenerys met with the sellswords, and the next day one of them returned with a bag. Nick was called in the following day, to discuss war plans.

The man, Daario Naharis, pointed out a weak point in the enemy defenses. There was a small gate, guarded by only one man. Daario's men used the door to enter the city when they didn't want to be seen, and he knew the guards. He laid out a plan. They would take a small group of their best swordsmen, breaking into the city and opening the gate. The army would march in, taking the city and freeing the slaves. Nick thought the plan would work, but only with the best men they had. He volunteered, being one of the four that would be going in. Daario, Ser Jorah, and an Unsullied by the name of Grey Worm would be joining him.

They snuck around the city walls, hiding in the shadows. Daario approached the guard, causing him to aim his spear at him. But realizing who it was, he laughed as an old friend might. They entered the city, disappearing for several moments. A bird cry went out, Daario's signal, and the group went through the gate. Grey Worm and Ser Jorah entered first, swiping to either side. There were two guards, both dead, with one on either side, throats slashed. Daario sat on a barrel in the small yard, wiping the blood off of his sword.

"See? What did I tell you?" Standing up, Daario tossed aside the bloodied rag. Just as he said this, though, a dozen soldiers ran into the yard, weapons at the ready, surrounding the small group.

"We each take three?" Nick said, brandishing Ice in front of him. All at once, the twelve foes ran at them. Nick slashed forward, cutting down the first man, the valyrian steel carving straight through the leather armor of the Essosi. As the body flew out of the way, he brought the great sword above his head, slashing it down onto the second man. He attempted to block it with the wooden handle of his spear, to no avail. The steel sliced straight through it, slamming down onto the man's head, cutting straight through the soldier's helmet. Pulling it out of the foe, he swung the blade around and stabbed the next man through the chest. Letting go of the sword, he grabbed the spear of the charging soldier and tore it from his hands, twirling it around. It was a light blade, but very sharp. He stabbed into the man's knee, drawing it out and letting him fall to the floor on his knees. Wrenching the spear out, he stabbed into the foe's chest, through the man's heart, killing him instantly. Letting the spear go, he walked over to the man he had killed with Ice, pulling the sword out of his chest. Turning around, he saw as his companions slew the last of their foes.

"I thought you said it was clear!" Ser Jorah yelled, getting up into Daario's face.

"I thought that it was." Was the only reply that they got before the next wave of enemy troops came pouring in. Nick swung the sword widely, cutting down the first three that ran through passageway. Yanking the sword out of the wall, he turned around, getting out of the way. Nick stepped aside, allowing the rest of them to get into the fight. Daario swinged his sword around, cutting down the next three. Stepping aside, he let Ser Jorah kill the next three, hacking and slashing them to the ground. Grey Worn killed the final three, spearing the first two at the same time before drawing his short sword and killing the final opponent. They collected their weapons, heading past the bodies.

Staying in the shadows, Daario led them to the ramparts of the front gate where they raised the portcullis. There were only three men guarding their path, as the masters of the city must have not believed the Targaryen did not have the bravery to launch an assault. They were wrong. Nicholas and Grey Worm stood there on guard, while Daario and Jorah raised the gate. Too late, the call went out for the troops to be awoken. Hearing footsteps pounding up the stairs, Nick charged to meet the foes. There was a company of crossbowmen, lightly armored. Nick slammed the door to the battlements shut, throwing a wooden bar across the door. Jogging back, he saw that Grey Worm had done the same. They were all skilled fighters, but they would stand no match for a hundred enemies, even if they were poorly trained slave fighters, numbers were numbers.

Finished with the gate, the four of them ran over to watch the battle commence. They saw as thousands of Targaryen supporters charge in. As the Unsullied ran through the gate, several small groups broke off. They ran up the stairs to the walls, killing the archers inside. Nick threw off the wooden bars, allowing them access to the rest of the walls. The thousands of soldiers ran past them, much like water under a bridge. Nick watched as the barracks of the Second Sons were thrown open, the slavers running in to rally their sellswords. The Sons ran out, swords bloodied, joining the battle. Nick saw his company of eight hundred run through, looking around for him.

"Up here, lads! With me!" Nick ran down the stairs, sword in hand. Reaching the bottom, he lead the troops through side street after side street until they reached the palace gates. One of the side gates was undefended, the main focus of the fighting being at the front. They were a small set of walls, surrounding the pyramids. Breaking down the door, they charged in, weapons drawn. They charged the slave fighters, hitting them in the rear. Many of the slaves had thrown down their weapons, surrendering. The Targaryen soldiers had been ordered to accept the surrender of any slave, but to kill any of the masters that they came across. There was a man, all in gold and silver, at the center of the enemy forces. One man charged at Nick, but after he was cut down with a single blow, no one else did. Nick advanced on the brightly colored foe, wielding Ice with both hands. The man charged, swinging wildly from above. Nick blocked the blow, sending one back at the warrior. He blocked it with his light blade, quickly jabbing at Nick's exposed face.

Grabbing hold of the blade with his gauntleted hand, he struggled with the master before tearing the sword out of his hands. Nick smacked the handle into the foe's face, stunning him momentarily. Tossing the light blade aside, he swung with Ice across the man's chest, tearing through the armor. Letting the foe fall to the to the ground on his knees, Nick swung the sword back around, cutting the man's head clean off. Looking around, all the combat had stopped, everyone looking at him and the dead master. The rest of slaves threw down their weapons, surrendering to the Targaryen forces. Nick led a company up the largest pyramid that was there, going up the steps. Reaching the top, they broke down the doors. The guards looked as if they would try to fight, but they dropped their weapons at the sight of the blood dripping from the end of their swords. There were none of the masters there, but their families were. Around fifty women and children, huddled in the corner, looked up at them with scared eyes. Handing Ice to his squire, he approached slowly, hands out in front of him.

"We mean you no harm," He said, before he repeated the phrase in High Valyrian. He had trained Night in Valyrian, the little he had learned in his youth. He had learned even more during the trip by sea, having nothing other to do than look at the sea.

"[Really? You invade our homes, kill our men, and take our city!]" One of the women yell. She was old in age, wearing heavily ornamented clothes. The was a younger woman, her daughter by what she said, hushing the old woman.

"[Pardon my mother, she has no idea of what she is saying in her old age.]" The girl said, looking at the Stark.

"[Oh, I know what I'm saying, you twat!]"

"Make way for the Queen!" One of the Northern men called out, stepping to the side. The troops parted, and Nick turned to face the Queen. She appeared at the top of the steps, out of breath.

"My Queen," Nick said, bowing to her. She nodded to him, walking over and speaking with the women and children. Nick stood there, watching as she conversed with the people. He was surprised, but she spoke fluent Valyrian. After a while, she turned back to Nick.

"Leave us," She said, commanding the Stark. "Take your men with you and secure the city. Make sure all is good. Then give the slaves weapons, and tell them to have their way with the masters. But not the children, or the pregnant. No more innocents need to die."

"Yes, my Queen," Nick twirled around, waving his hand in the air. He walked back down the steps, the rest of his men following him. His squire, Raymond, handed Ice to him, polished and clean. He sheathed the sword across his back, letting the weight hang across his back. Hand on hilt of the sword at his waist, he calmly walked down the steps. Reaching the bottom, he gathered a group of Unsullied and gave them the Queen's orders. They followed the orders calmly, gathering weapons from the fallen and from the store rooms.

They walked around the city, going to each house and breaking the chains of each slave, setting them free. They took the children and innocent wives with them, making sure that no one more innocents would die. They did so with the orders of the Queen, giving them their limitations. Many were disgruntled, but the majority understood why and thanked them.

They came back around, having circled a quarter of the city. There were other groups that Nick had sent out, and they had circled around the city, the same as Nick and his group had. The invaders had been met with little resistance, being seen as helpers, as rescuers by most of the city. It was nearing dawn, much too early. He was tired. He had woken early that morning, and it was nearly an entire day since then. Looking across the sandy yard, he could see the Queen as she came down from a pyramid. Her dragons followed her closely, just as Night had. The dragons were getting larger, with them just starting to be bigger than Night.

Daenerys walked over to Nick, dragons on her tail. "Ser Nicholas, how goes the collar-breaking?"

"Quite well, your grace," Nick said, nodding to the queen. "My group broke the collars of a quarter of the city. The innocent wives and children of the slavers have been moved up here, to the yard. The second and third parties are here as well, but the fourth is yet to return."

"Very good," The Queen said, a smile on her face. She looked around, her violet eyes looking through all of them. She may be the only one her not wielding a sword, yet they knew that she was the most powerful one there. Any assassin would have to cut through not only a contingent of soldiers, but the finest sword in the Seven Kingdoms, Ser Barristan Selmy. And even if they managed to do just that, there would be three dragons on standby. They were the size of Night, who on his own was twice the size of a normal direwolf. Nick feared little, but those dragons were one of them. He had seen the horrors of wildfire on the Blackwater, and imagined that dragonfire would be little better. "We can stay here for a fortnight while we replenish our food stores and gather recruits. I plan on taking as many as we can as we push onto Meereen. Now go. Spend time with your wife. She is wishing to see you so."

"Of course, your grace," Nick said, nodding to the Queen. She directed him to the largest pyramid in the city, the one where she was staying. She would be claiming the topmost level, but she had granted Nick and Emma the level below her. He made his way up the steps, sorely missing the steps at Winterfell. They had seemed giant to his young mind, but he was now realizing just how small they were. Reaching their new home for the next few weeks, he noted the two guardsmen flanking the door. He pushed the door open, closing it quietly behind him. Looking out over the room, he could see several silken curtains pulled over, covering part of the room. It was late at night, early dawn. As such, no natural light was streaming in through the open doors. They opened out to the west, blocking the sunrise. Nick slipped past the curtains, brushing them aside and letting them fall back behind him. He looked down, seeing a tub in the center of the room, away from the soft carpets and delicate curtains. As he walked in, he saw Emma turn around and look at him. She smiled at him, reaching out and beckoning him to the water. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his shirt off, tossing them both onto the bed next to them. He pulled the rest of his clothes off, dropping them down into a pile next to Emma's.

He walked over, stepping into the tub behind her. She had scooted forward, making room behind her. Sitting down, he wrapped his arms around her midriff and pulled her closer to him. She snuggled against him, taking his hands. She leaned back, kissing him on the cheek moving her hand up behind his head, pulling him closer to her. He kissed her back, holding her. They sat there in the tub, enjoying each other's presence. She eventually turned around, putting her arms around him and kissing him. He kissed back, holding her close.

"Ava is with Claire, in one of the other rooms on this level," She said, answering his unasked question. "She is going to take care of her for the night, allowing us to get some sleep. I was just washing off before bed."

"Glad I can be of help with that," Nick said, smiling and giving her a quick kiss. He picked up a cloth from the side of the tub, running it over Emma's shoulders. He moved it down, across her chest, and down to her belly, running his hands over the small lump of their unborn child in her. He leaned down, kissing her belly before leaning back up and kissing her lips. She kissed him back, before reaching down and taking the cloth from his hands.

"I already did that, silly," She took the cloth from his hand and dropped it onto the side of the tub. She kissed him again, before standing up and getting out of the tub. "I was actually just about to get out."

"Well don't I look like a fool," He said, standing back up and stepping out of the tub. He walked over, taking two towels and passing one to her. They dried off completely, before slipping into bed. He took her into his arms, kissing the top of her head softly as she fell asleep. But he couldn't sleep. It was something that had been with him since birth. No matter what time he fell asleep, he always woke up at sunrise. It must have been early, as he couldn't fall asleep. He lay there, holding Emma, for several hours. It wasn't until he was sure that she was sound asleep that he quietly got up. Pulling on a simple robe, he went over to his chest and pulled out a book. It was an old storybook, containing stories from the age of heros. It was one of the ones he had taken with him from Winterfell. He had read it before, but there was no harm in re-reading a book. He walked out onto the balcony, looking out over the city. There was smoke rising from several parts damaged in the fighting, and large piles of the dead. Mostly defenders, the only casualties they had sustained were among the Dothraki and freemen.

He read for half the day, the sun's light lighting his book. Birds flew by, and he watched them for a while. Around midday, with the sun just above him, he heard movement in the bed. Looking over, Emma sat up and yawned, stretching. She walked over to him, her nakedness forgotten and sat down on the couch next to him. She snuggled up against him, putting her arms around him. He picked up a blanket and covered them both, draping his arm across her shoulders. She smiled, taking the book out of his hands and putting it onto a small table in front of them. She kissed him hugging him tight before falling asleep once again. He smiled, kissing her back and holding her. She slept there for the rest of the day, and all of the next night. Nick joined her in sleep as the sunset, holding her close.

It was several weeks later, on the road to Meereen. Nick was on horseback, and Emma was next to him. Her belly had grown, as she was now several months into her second pregnancy. By their best guesses, she was just under halfway through. Ava was with Daenerys and Rhaego in a wheelhouse, taken by them from Yunkai. The former slaves from Yunkai had joined them, leaving very few people in the city. They had taken the former master's families with them, in order to protect them from angry former slaves. Daenerys had ordered Nick to help train the new freedmen, and he had been doing so. They had dozens of other men helping to train them, most being former slave pit fighters. Several exiles, and several Dothraki had volunteered.

It was then when Nick saw the first one. The first child, the first slave child nailed to a post and left to die.


	16. Chapter 15

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 15**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._ _Author's Notes: Hello. Sorry for it having been so long, I've been busy with school. I hope you guys enjoy!_

"Take her down," Daenerys said, face riddled with anger. It was the fifth child they had found, and the fifth mile to the city. He feared that another child would be found at each mile, and so far it had been proven true. As they pulled the young girl down, Daenerys turned and walked back to her horse, eyes wet. She picked up her young son, holding him tight. Mounting up, she watched as the child was buried in a small grave. Whoever these slavers were, they would not survive the upcoming conquest.

"Move out," Nick said, loudly and clear. He had waited for the Queen to speak, but she had made no noise.

The match continued for the next few days, the entire army halting the moment that they came across another child. The Queen made no comment, simply shedding a tear for each one. When they finally reached the city, the Queen gave commands. They wouldn't be attacking the city directly, but they would be sending in several Unsullied, disguised as slaves, with weapons to fuel an uprising. Nick would be leading a diversionary assault upon the gate, but carefully. They would stay behind cover, purposely missing. Too many slaves had died so far.

"Nicholas," Daenerys said, coming up behind him. The men were loosing arrows, sending them to fall short of the walls. The slaves firing back couldn't hit them, and any arrows that came close were blocked by shields. "I wish to speak with you of our children."

"What of them, your grace?"

"A betrothal. Between Rhaego, and your daughter Ava. You proclaim for me, yet I need your loyalty assured."

"I would be a fool to say no, your grace," Nick said, smiling and bowing to the Queen. He gazed back to at the fight, before looking back at Daenerys. "But if I may ask for one thing. I was lucky, and so were you. We were set up with marriages, not of our own volition, and both found love in them. I've already had one child, and there is another on the way. As have you. Should our children grow to hate each other, or find their love in other places, I ask that the betrothal is broken. A loveless marriage produces very little, as my wife's parents can attest to."

"I can agree to that," She said, smiling at Nick. "How did you find this information on my late husband?"

Nick cracked a grin, chuckling quietly to himself. "I have my sources." A runner came up, informing them the Unsullied were safely inside. Nick shouted out, and the men fell back. They hadn't lost any men, and neither had the enemy. The made their way back to the siege camp, where their soldiers were gathering. The next morning, they all awoke to the sight of the Targaryen hanging down over the harpy atop the Great Pyramid. As they rode into the city, Daenerys left her guards behind and rode among the slaves. They called out to her, crying out, "Mhysa, Mhysa!" and they reached out. She ran her hands through theirs, smiling at all of them. Nick led her small Queensguard as they pushed through the crowd, watchful for fear of trampling small children.

Suddenly, ahead of Daenerys, a former slave flew out of an ally and slammed against a wall. A warrior, bare-chested, black haired and darker skin, with a spear in hand, ran out, pulling the spear out of someone behind him and sending blood spraying. He twirled the sword above his head and cut down across former slave's chest, before bringing it back to his shoulders and stabbing through the fighter's face. He wrenched the weapon out, and turned and charged at the Queen.

"[Make a hole!]" Nick yelled in Valyrian, drawing his sword and pushing his horse forward. As he neared the Queen, the bare-chested foe threw his spear at her. Nick, pushing off of the stirrups of his horse, jumped forward and tackled the Queen off of her horse. As they fell, he turned and landed on his back, protecting her from the fall. The spear flew into the crowd, disappearing into the masses. He checked on the Queen, and after making sure she was unharmed he scrambled around for his sword. Finding it, the bare-chested warrior slammed his foot down on the blade and raised his arakh high above his head. But the warrior looked up, watching as a stream of fire slammed into his chest and sent him to the ground. Nick, taking hold of the sword, scrambled back from the flames. Standing to his feet and keeping away from the fire, he watched as Drogon flew down and landed next to Daenerys. The dragon was huge, it's skull nearly half the size of Balerion the Dread's skull in the dungeons below Red Keep. Daenerys stood, using the dragon to steady herself. Once the beast secured that it's mother was safe, it lifted up off of the ground and join his brothers in the sky. "Are you alright, your grace? Apologize if I harmed you."

"You did not, lord knight," She said, smiling at the Stark lord. She brushed some dust from her arms, before mounting on her horse again. Nick followed in suit, sheathing the blade at his hip. The crowd, scared at first, went back to praising the young Queen, yet obviously making a hole in the crowd around the burning spearmen.

The Queen and her guard made their way up to the Great Pyramid, eventually dismounting as servants ran forward and took their horses. Daenerys handed each of them a silver, thanking them personally. In the pyramid, on the top floor, there were all the wives and children of dead slavers in the city. Some of the slavers, however, remained living and would resist her rule.

Several days later, Nick stood and watched as a noble slaver was nailed to a cross at the base of the pyramid, looking out over the city. This man was the tenth they had put up, and would be far from the last. The Queen had ordered one to be put up for each of the slave children they had found, and there were many freemen ready to serve. Nick took no pleasure in giving the orders, but knew that they it was necessary. There were several slavers pleading for their lives, but they fell on deaf ears. In Nick's eyes, they deserved what they got, and many of his soldiers agreed with him. Many of the former slaves did as well.

"Lord Stark," A voice behind Nick said. Nick turned around, seeing Ser Barristan standing behind him. The old knight's chest was rising and falling rapidly, stressed from the long walk down the steps of the pyramid. "The Queen has instructed me to train knights for her armies, to uphold truth and justice. I have come to ask you to join me in their training."

"It would be my honor, Ser Barristan," Nick said, smiling at the old man. Despite his old age, the knight was great warrior. When they had attacked the Second Sons out of Meereen, Ser Barristan had fought by Nick's side, cutting down dozens of enemies.

"Swords up!" Nick said, calling out to the two dozen young lads standing in front of him. They snapped to attention, bringing up their swords in front of them. Angus walked among them, correcting small discrepancies in their stances. "Guard stance one!" They jump to their stances, legs curved below them they had turned onto their sides, facing a shoulder towards Nick and resting their swords on their arms. There were former slaves, sons of slavers, and freemen all standing there in front of him. Their former divisions had been cast aside, and they all were just squires serving the knights. Agnus had been knighted by Ser Barristan after the battle outside Yunkai, along with several other brave fighters that had held the assault line and charged their foes. Just as he was giving the next command, a handmaiden ran into the room, panting heavily.

"M'lord," The women said, drawing breath rapidly. "Your...wife….has gone into...labor."

"Agnus," Nick said nodding at the man. He took the class, calling out commands. Nick ran out of the room, over to the steps and up the staircase. He ran into his and his wife's room, throwing the door open in front of him. He dashed to her bedside, taking her hand.

"M'lord, you shouldn't be here." One of the women by Emma's side said, glaring at Nick. "The birthing process-"

"Fuck no," Emma said, straining her voice in pain. She grabbed tight on his hand, holding him tight. "He stays."

Nick held her hand as she screamed out, giving birth to their child. The process was a longer one than Ava's, but the time slipped by quickly to Nick. Eventually, one of the handmaidens came over with the first of the children.

"The first?" Emma said, wincing in pain. The handmaiden stepped back, holding on to the child as Emma yelled out again. After what seemed like seconds, a second handmaiden came around with the second child. Nick took the child, as Emma was handed the first one. Sitting down on the bed next to Emma, he layed down and held his son next to Emma. She looked at him, smiling, holding the other son. "What about names? I wasn't expecting two."

"Benjen, for my uncle." Nick said, smiling down at the son in his arms. "And Orys for the older son, after the founder of your father's house."

"I like that," Emma said, leaning up to Nick and kissing him. "A joining of our houses."

The four of them sat there in bed, with the two parents admiring their children. Ava was brought in to sit with them, and they were soon joined by Arya and Rickon. Their direwolves were with them, sitting at the foot of the bed and standing guard. Night had come up, sniffing at the new cubs he would be protecting.

"What are their names?" Arya asked, looking at the two infants. Nick passed Benjen over to her, watching how she handled the child closely. He picked up Ava, sitting the new sister in his lap. He smiled at her, and at them all, glad that at least this part of his family was intact.

"Orys, the eldest, is in Emma's hands. You have Benjen with you now."

"I like it," Rickon said, smiling happily. "We see Uncle Benjen too little."

"That we do, brother," Nick said, smiling. But there were sounds of shouting on the steps, and the door was thrown open. Three men ran in, long knives in hand. Nick stood up, grabbing Ice from next to his bed. They were wearing golden masks, modeled after the face of a harpy. "Avert your eyes, family."

The first man ran forward, knife in hand. Nick ran forward to meet him, dropping to a knee at the last second and slicing the blade across the man's gut, stopping him in his tracks. Standing up behind him, Nick turned around and slammed the blade across the harpy's neck, cutting his head clean off. The next man backed away, but Nick carved down through the man's shoulder, cutting deep into his chest. Tearing the greatsword out, he advanced on the last man. He backed away, but a sword pierced through the center of his chest. The dead harpy fell down, the sword retracting out. Agnus stood there, sword bloodied.

"The Queen!" They both said in usion, tearing off and running up the stairs. Nick turned around, pulling the door behind him shut. "Stay here!" He ordered the assembled Starks. He heard the door being bolted shut behind him. He could see the squires in the other room shutting the door, securing their safety.

They ran up the stairs, reaching the door to the Queen's chambers. The door was bashed in, with the sounds of swordfighting inside. Ser Barristan was in the center of the room, clad in his golden armor. There were several bodies bleeding on the floor, and another was just about to join them. Daario Naharis was naked, dancing around with his knives in hand. He killed several of the foes as they watched, but there were still dozens more pouring in. Daenerys was in bed, silken sheets pulled up to her chin. Nick slashed Ice down, cutting the nearest foe down the spine. Nick swirled the sword again, cutting the next two down from behind. Three of them turned at him, seeing him attacking. He cut down the next two before they could react, and the third foe died when his weapon broke against the Valyrian steel of the Stark sword. He killed several more, before the remaining threw down their weapons. Looking around, he could see that Daario had left none alive, while the other three had captured half a dozen harpies.

"Like what you see?" Daario said, looking over at Nick and Agnus. Nick just shook his head, and tossed a rode from the ground at him.

"Your grace, has any harm come to you?" Nick said, panting. He prefered a one-handed sword, but more foes could be felled by Ice.

"No, Lord Stark," Daenerys said, pulling the silk sheet closer. "We heard screaming below, is everything alright?"

"Yes, your grace," Nick said, nodding to the Queen. "That was my wife, giving birth. We had two sons, Orys and Benjen."

"Wonderful. Congratulations on them. They are healthy, I assume?"

"Yes, your grace. If you will excuse me…"

"Of course, Ser knight."

Nick ran down the steps, making his way back to his room. His heart went dark with terror as he reached his room and found the door bashed in, and he heard the sounds of fighting. Running in, he saw five men, all wearing the golden mask of the harpy. One of them was on the ground, bleeding from half a dozen cuts across his chest and arms. The other four were standing, weapons drawn, facing Rickon, Emma, and the young ones on the bed. The three direwolves were all standing on the bed, growling and snarling at the foes. Arya was being held at knifepoint, the dagger forming a thin line of blood against her throat. Nick, sword in hand, swung the two-handed sword and cut the man's head in half, far above where Arya was. As the body fell to the floor, Arya dashed out and took Needle from the first man she had killed. Then, she twirled around and drove the narrow swordpoint through the next foe's throat, jabbing the blade in quickly and letting the corpse fall. Before the two Starks could react, Nymeria and Night leapt forward, grabbing the assailants by the neck and shoving them to the ground. Nymeria killed her prey with easy, tearing out the man's throat and letting him bleed out. Night, pinning his foe, tore off the man's hand and threw it off to the side, keeping his foe alive. Nick heard footfalls behind him, but when he turned he saw that they were Unsullied. They checked on them all, making sure no one was harmed, before taking the sole wounded man into custody. As they left, Nick walked over to Emma's bedside and sat down, resting Ice against the wall.

"Are you alright?" Nick asked, looking at Emma with concern. Ava was next to her, holding onto the edge of the silk blanket pulled over her. Benjen was in her arms, while Orys was being held by a handmaiden next to them. Nick reached over, taking the young child from her and holding his son in his arms. Ava crawled over, making little noises as she did so. Nick smiled down at his children, ruffling the small amount of hair that was on her head. "Are they alright?"

"They're fine," Emma said, seeing the concern on Nick's face. She leaned over, kissing him lightly on the lips. "We need to move to another room. I don't want the children to see this longer than they have to."

"Of course," Nick said, passing Orys to Arya. He helped Emma up, taking Benjen and handing him over to Agnus who was standing directly behind him. She was still weak from the childbirth, requiring one of the handmaidens help to move. Nick picked up Ava, leading the group of them to another nearby room. One of the guardsmen had moved two cradles into the room, along with a small bed for Ava. He put Ava down, before turning and taking Benjen from Agnus behind him. He laid his son down and tucked him in, watching as the infant fell asleep. Arya handed him Orys, whom Nick put down in his cradle.

Looking down at the two of them, he saw how similar the two of them were. The looked exactly the same, yet the way they acted was different. Orys had been crying out and making other noises ever since he was born. But Benjen had been silent, only making noise when the harpies had attacked. He smiled, leaning down and kissing each of the children in turn on the top of their heads. Making sure all three were tucked in warmly, Nick climbed into bed next to Emma. She shifted over, snuggling up against his side and taking his hand in hers and holding it over his chest. He snuck his arm under her head, moving his hand down to her side.

The sounds of laughter filled the chambers, as Ava ran around the room being chased by Rhaego. The two infants were not really running, as they could barely stand, but they were laughing. Nick sat with Emma on a sofa, his arm over her shoulder. The twins were crawling around next to them, playing with small toys. Daenerys sat in a small chair next to the sofa, smiling as her son ran around.

The door behind her opened, and a messenger came in with a small letter. She read it quickly, before getting Nick's attention and passing it to him. He quickly read the message, noting who it was from. He recognized the signature, and the name, of his half-brother. Smiling, he showed it to Emma. She had not met Jon, but he had told her about him. They had not seen each other during her visit to Winterfell four years ago, as a bastard was not fit to socialize with a princess.

"Well," Nick said, speaking to his wife and the Queen. "I fear that I must sail North again. I must answer my sister's call to war."

"I'll go with you," Emma said, looking up at Nick and taking his hand. "I will not be separated from you, and neither will the children."

"Emma . . . . " Nick said, looking down at her with a sad smile. "I can not bring you, or them. If we lose this war against the Boltons, they'll kill you all."

"Yet if they capture you, they'll kill you. If they capture Jon, or Sansa, or any of the others, they will kill them. Why should you go and die and leave us here? Each time we go to war, we risk our lives. If our side loses, we will die. I couldn't . . . if you died . . . ." Emma's eyes teared up, as she blinked them away. "Besides, the children will need their father."

"Alright," Nick said, looking down at her. "Alright. You and the children will go with me. Arya as well."

"Yeah, she wouldn't want to be left behind. Rickon should come as well. He needs to see battle, though he will not participate in it."

"Go," Daenerys said, looking over at the Starks and smiling. "I know why you must. You Starks will always have friends in the Targaryens."

Nick stood there on the deck of his ship as they sailed into White Harbor. The return trip had been a short one, compared to the one east. It had only taken them several months, as they had full supplies and repaired sails. Nick commanded nearly 1,500 men now, nearly double what he had when he joined the Queen. She had allowed a large number of freemen to join him, along with dozens of former slaver fighters that had refused to surrender to the Dragon Queen. When they had been subdued, she had sentenced them to service in Nick's army rather than death.

They sailed into the harbor unopposed, flying no banner from their ships. Nick knew little of what had happened in Westeros in recent years, but he knew enough to not fly the banner of a man branded as a traitor to the masses. As they pulled up on the docks, a contingent of soldiers came up to meet them. The led Nick and a team of his men up to the hall, where he met with Wyman Manderly. The lord was sitting at the head of the table, looking at the guests.

"You sail into my harbor, an army and a fleet at your back." The man spoke, speaking slowly so as to be understood properly. "Who are you?"

"I am Nicholas Stark, rightful lord of Winterfell." Nicholas said, hand on the hilt of his sword. He stared down the northern lord, noting the presence of three men with the Twins of the Freys across their chests. There was a man, bearing a resemblance of the Manderly lord, standing by two women who would be no other than his daughters. "I come seeking the presence of Lord Wyman," He looked at the three Freys. "In private."

"Well Lord Stark," Wyman said, after he had sent the others out. His son, Wylis, remained along with Wylis' daughters. "We are alone. I would assume you would look for our support in your sister's war?"

"Most definitely, Lorn Wyman. From what I have been told, you have twelve thousand men ready to fight, in addition to five thousand more wildlings from Hardhome. Surely, some of those troops could be spared."

"My brother," Wylis said, speaking up. "Wendel was killed by the Freys. They were aided by the Boltons, the same ones sacked Winterfell and killed your brothers."

"Brothers? Plural?"

"Apologies, Lord Stark," Wyman said. "Did you not know? Ramsay Bolton, Roose's bastard, sent word that your brother Brandon was killed when the Greyjoy's took Winterfell. I believe it was Theon who did that."

"Then let us destroy these Boltons. They murdered your son and two of my brothers. Let us kill them, and let their bodies feed the crows."

"Very well, Lord Stark," Wyman said, thinking. "I'll send the five thousand wildlings with you, along with eight thousand men. Wylis will lead the troops. But we will have a problem with the Freys."

As Wyman said this, the three Freys stormed in with swords in hand. Behind them came in twenty more men, all armed to the teeth with swords, spears, and shields. "TRAITORS!"

" Rhaegar, Jared, Symond, I'm sure you misheard-" That was all that Wyman was able to get out before Jared stepped forward, driving the spear in his hands through the Manderly's gut. Doubling over in pain, Symond stepped forward and stabbed him through the neck, sliding his sword back out and letting the blood spill onto the floor. Wylis cried out, trying to react, but the moment he drew his sword he found a half-dozen spears aimed at his chest. But before the Freys could secure the Starks, Nick grabbed a bow down off the wall and put the arrow through Jared's throat, sending him down. Several of the men next to him drew their bows, sending arrows at the Frey men. With his second arrow, Nick took down a spearman aiming at Wylis, giving him the chance to kill two more next to him. The others were cut down by guardsmen next to Wylis, all but one who was killed with a knife to the throat by Wylla. Nick knocked another arrow, saving Wylis from a man behind him with a sword as he pushed forwards.

As soon as the fight began, it was done. Only Rhaegar and two of his men were alive, down on their knees begging for their lives. Wylis cut all three down, killing them. "Lord Stark, ready your troops. We march at dawn."

Walking out into the cool night air, he looked over the bow in his hand. "That was my grandfather's," A voice said behind him. He turned to face, seeing Wylla with her green hair. "You avenged him. Keep it." She said as Nick attempted to hand it to her. "You're a much better shot than any of us."

"Thank you, my lady." Nick said, smiling at her. "You're not such a bad shot yourself, with the knives."

"Thank you. I must go check on my father." She dashed back inside. Nick walked down to his ships, notifying the captains of their orders.

That morning Nick sat on horseback, at the head of the column. He looked behind him, seeing the column spread out behind him. Directly behind him was Seven of the eight thousand soldiers were behind him, while the other thousand were riding around them, scouting the flanks. The wildlings were behind the rest, struggling along at a slower pace.

They were riding along when the scouts spotted another group of troops. Nick rode up with a guard of men, Wylis by his side, when he saw the banner of the Vale of Arryn and Littlefinger at the head, with Sansa by his side.


	17. Chapter 17

**The Sword of The Starks**

 **Chapter 16**

 _Disclaimer: I own no part of the Game of Thrones franchise. All characters and locations are property of George R.R. Martin and whomever else he worked with. All writings are works of fiction and not meant to be part of any GoT storyline. Thank you to G.R.R. Martin for creating this wonderful universe._ _Author's Notes: Hello all. I know it's been a bit of time since the last update. I just hope you all like this chapter. If you haven't already, go and check out the other stories I have published. I am going to try and get back to publishing more on them. Enjoy!_

"Sansa!" Nick cried out, leaping off his horse and running towards her as she did the same. The embraced, glad to see each other after so long. He smiled, glad to see his sister again after so long. "How have you been?"

"I've been as good as one can be, when their entire family is believed to be either dead or traitors, brother of mine," Sansa said, smiling sadly at her brother. Nick nodded, before echoing her smile and taking a step back. Night came bounding up behind him, licking at Sansa's hand. Suddenly, Lady came dashing out of the woods, bounding up and tackling her brother. The two wolves played around, running about. It was when the horses around them shied back from the beasts that Nick looked up at the riders. He spotted an aging man, whom he did not recognize at first, but it was the words that the man said that made Nick realize who it was.

"Lord Stark," Littlefinger said, smiling down at him from atop his horse. "It seems that the past years have treated you well."

"And you have not, Lord Baelish," Nick said, staring down the man. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword, only seen by Sansa and Littlefinger. Sansa moved down, stopping his hand and whispering into his ear.

"No, Nick. We need him. Jon needs his soldiers."

"Alright," Nick said, speaking lowly and glaring at the lord. He removed his hand, whistling and calling Night to his side. Putting on a fake smile, he mounted his horse and led the knights to the rest of their column. Upon reaching his own troops again, he introduced Lord Baelish to Lord Wylis. Excusing himself, he led Sansa to the wheelhouse that Emma was in, along with the others. He passed their horses to several of the squires that had come with him from Meereen, before pushing the curtains aside and leading Sansa inside. The wolves bounded up after them, Lady greeting her brother and sister that were in there. Arya looked over, laughing and hugging Sansa. Rickon ran over after her, hugging Sansa. The settled down again as the cart, and the column, began to move once more.

"It's good to see you again," Arya said, smiling at her sister. "It has been far too long."

"That it has." Sansa smiled back, hugging Rickon. Lady came over, settling down next to Sansa. Shaggydog patted over, pushing his way through Rickon's arm. "It's good to see you again, Lady Emma."

"It's good to see you as well, Lady Sasna. Please, just Emma." Emma smiled as Nick settled down next to her, looking up from watching the young children. Ava crawled over to Sansa, looking at Lady and patting her on the head.

"Who is this?" Sansa said, smiling and looking down at the little girl. She looked over at Nick and Emma, seeing the twins crawling around in front of them, playing with small little toys. Ava looked up at Sansa, giggling and moving over until Sansa picked her up. Sansa put Ava down in her lap, picking up a small direwolf stuffed toy from the carpeted floor and handing it to Ava. Sansa looked over at Nick, a curious look on her face.

"That is our eldest, Ava. These are our twins, Benjen and Orys." Nick said, smiling at Sansa and pointing at each in turn. He watched as Orys knocked one of his toys out of his reach, so Nick picked it back up and handed it back, smiling to himself.

"Oh my, Nick. You have children already?"

"Yeah. We're a bit young, but, well, we are at war. And with what happened to to Robb . ."

"Who's that?" Sanas said, looking and pointing at the toddler Nick hadn't named. She saw some resemblance of someone she knew, yet hadn't see in some time.

"Lyanna." Nick smiled, taking a sad sort of expression. "Mother gave birth to her before she died, in the Vale. We went there shortly after father's death in the capital.'

"They told me it was Littlefinger." Sansa said, looking over at Nick. "Although he said he was forced to. That the Queen would have killed him if he hadn't."

"Whatever the reason, I will kill him." Nick said, eyes dark with anger. "That man killed our father."

"He killed Lady Lysa." Sansa said after a silence. She looked up at Nick. "He murdered her. Threw her out the Moon Door, having me help to cover it up. Yet despite all that, he saved my life."

"One act does not wash away the rest," Arya said, joining the conversation. "That man is directly responsible for the death of our father and our aunt. He will die, and by a Stark hand."

"If so, then we do it right. Jon will have the authority for a trial, and we can all bear witness."

They rode in the wheelhouse for the next hour, pushing towards Winterfell. They made small talk, going over what had happened during the past years. Nick had been lucky. Not much bad had happened to him, other than the loss of his mother and father. Sansa had been married twice, first to a Lannister then to a traitor. She spoke little of what had happened with Ramsay, but from what she said and how she said it he knew it had been bad. He had heard stories of Ramsay, of what he had done, whom he had killed. He was said to have killed his father, spreading the story of Stark-hired killers. Nothing had been heard of Roose's wife or infant son, as Roose had died the day the son was born.

Finally, word was raised that they were close to Winterfell. The group of them left the wheelhouse, stepping out into the cold air. They were hidden there, at the edge of the wolfswood, the trees all around them. They had been forced by the wheelhouse to keep along an ancient old pathway, moving slowly. The men in the army behind them were forming up next to him, making ranks upon ranks of troops. The woods where they were were thick, the ground choked by bushes and upstart trees, trying to push their way into the light.

Looking forward, Nick could see armies in the field, in front of the castle. The banner of the flayed man flew high, over thousands of men in armor standing close to the gates. Across from them, the banner of the Starks flew over less than a half of what their foes had. The archers were exchanging volleys, while ranks of cavalry were pushing forwards towards each other. The battle had begun.

They could do little but watch as the forces clashed, sword on sword, lance on lance. Nick had seen Jon leading the charge forwards, but he had disappeared in the chaos of battle. Nick looked to the side, anxious for his soldiers to form up. They had called back the scouts, ready for the fight. As they watched, Jon's army ceased firing arrows for fear of hitting their own men. The Boltons harbored no such fear, loosing arrows constantly. Nick could see soldiers, on both sides, taking arrows, their horses falling down, shot dead, the men being sent flying.

"Well?" Wylis said, riding over to Nick's side and looking out at the battle. "Do we march? Do we fight?"

"Not yet. There are thousands of infantry, armed with spears. Our army mostly cavalry, with the infantry being almost entirely wildlings. They will not be able to deal with two thousand spearmen and two more of archers. We can't send cavalry to back them up because of the spearmen. We wait."

Nick sat there on horseback, watching the battle rage. The infantry and archers behind the center of the battle charged forwards, pushing into the fight. The corpses were piling up, forming small mounds. As they watched, the spearmen pushed down, forming a horse-shoe type formation around the fighting. The archers began to move down, forcing their way towards the fight to join it.

"We go now!" Nick yelled out. "Wylis, take half your cavalry and charge the archers, stop them from entering the fight. MEN OF THE NORTH!" Nick yelled out as Wylis rode off. "WITH ME! FORWARD, TO VICTORY!"

The men ran behind him as he rode out, charging at the spearmen formed around Jon's army. The Boltons were focused on Jon and his men, not who was behind them. As Nick rode out, the cavalry and wildlings behind him, they pushed their horses to full speed. Nick pulled his sword from his hip, slicing forwards and cutting down the spearmen's commander. They turned too late, as their position was already being overrun. Nick cut and slashed, taking down man after man until one put a spear through his horse's neck. As it went down, he lept off and landed behind the soldier. As his foe tried to turn, the spear broke off. Nick slashed across the man's back, sending him to the ground. Turning, Nick saw four men approaching him. As one lunged at him, Nick grabbed the spear and sidestepped, cutting down and breaking the shaft of the spear. He twirled the broken front end around, stabbing through the opponent's neck. He reached, taking the broken end of the spear and stabbed the broken wood through the next foe's leg, sending him to the ground. He slashed his sword across his enemy's throat, spilling blood across the ground. As he turned, the third man stabbed forward. Nick rolled to the ground, slamming his foe's legs and knocking him over. Nick stood up, stabbing the bastard sword down through the soft leather covering his opponent's chest. As he turned, he found the last man stabbing his spear at Nick's face. Nick was saved when a sword sprouted through his foe's chest, stopping him in his tracks. As the corpse fell away, Jon stood there, pulling the sword out of his kill.

"Thanks," Nick said, nodding at the man. He didn't know who it was at first, but when he spoke Nick recognized his voice. "Jon!"

"Nick!" Jon said, rushing forwards and hugging Nick. Nick clapped him on the back, glad to see his brother after such a long time. Breaking apart, Jon began to speak. "I suppose that I have you to thank for this victory that is at hand?"

"That you do, brother," Nick said, smiling. "But the battle isn't won yet. We still have to get Ramsay."

"Agreed."

Together the two brothers push forwards, cutting down enemies here and there. At one point this brute of a man, at least seven feet tall, slammed Nick in the chest, sending him backwards. Jon cut down at his arms, only to have been slammed with the top of his battle axe. Nick stood up, drawing Ice from his back. The bastard sword he had been using had disappeared, knocked away by the blow. As Nick charged, the foe raised the axe high above his head. As he swung it down, Nick brought Ice up to meet it. As the blades connected, Nick shoved upwards and startled the foe, sending the axe out of his grasp. Nick turned the blade, cutting his opponent across the chest, sending the enemy backwards. Jon came up cutting out the opponent's knees as Nick slammed Ice down into the enemy's collarbone and down through his chest. He placed his foot on the man's chest, pushing him backwards as he tore the sword from his chest.

Nick stood up, looking around at the fight. The Bolton forces were turning and running, surrendering. Those that tried to run were chased down, killed by the cavalry. Prisoners were taken, but more often than not they were simply killed. Nick and Jon looked up to where Ramsay had been, spotting him fleeing back to the castle. "Let's go!" Jon said, running forward.

Nick and Jon ran, chasing Ramsay. There was a giant that came in next to them, dwarfing even the tallest of warriors. And a wildling warrior, dressed in snow-stained furs, wielding axes. As they ran they spotted archers atop the walls, raining arrows down on the advancing troops. A warhorn sounded, and out of the woods where Nick had come from the thousand archers in Nick's service came running, taking position to rain fire upon the walls. The giant ran forward, slamming into the gate. Spears and arrows thudded into the giant, but he acted as if he felt no pain. As the gates fell, the cheer went up from Nick's troops and they surged forwards. Nick was the first one through the gap, running in with an arrow knocked. He loosed it at the first enemy he saw, sending blood flying as the arrow thudded through his neck. The next arrow he sent took down another enemy, but before he could send the third arrow he saw one going at him. It scraped past his cheek, cutting deep and drawing blood. He knocked his third arrow, sending it back at the archer. He watched as it connected, slamming into his foe's shoulder and sending him to the ground. Jon came in behind him, cutting down an enemy as they came towards him. As Nick readied his next arrow to kill the man on the ground, Jon stopped him.

"Well, I've decided to take you up on your offer, Jon Snow," The man said, getting to his feet. He broke off the shaft of the arrow, tossing it aside and drawing back the bow string. "Single combat. The loeser's army surrenders."

With that, the man sent his first arrow. But instead of aiming it at Jon, the arrow flew into the giant, striking him in the eye and killing it. Jon's eyes went mad with anger, picking up a shield from the ground and advancing on the archer. The first, then the second, and finally the third arrows thudded into the shield, until Jon was close enough. From there he slammed the foe across the face with the shield, sending him to the ground. He tossed the Mormont shield aside, instead deciding to beat him across the face by hand. Jon sat there repeatedly punching him into a bloody pulp. Nick jogged over, grabbing Jon's arm as he pulled it back again.

"Jon. Jon!" Nick said as Jon continued to try and punch the man on the ground, wrenching his arm out of Nick's hand. "He's down. He's done."

"He's - he's the bastard that . . . to Sansa," Jon said, standing up, blood dripping from his knuckles. Nick pushed Jon back, away from his bloodied foe. Turning back, he lifted the man off of the ground, looking him in the eyes.

"Ah, you must be Lord Stark," Ramsay said, blood dripping from his face. He smiled wickedly, laughing cruelly. "I must thank you for saving me. And especially for your sister. She was great to f-"

At this point Nick punched Ramsay in jaw, hearing the sickening crack of breaking bones. Ramsay went to the ground, crying out in pain and holding his freshly broken jaw. Grabbing Ramsay by the arm, he lifted him up and walked him to the kennels. Jon followed him. But as Nick opened the gate, he looked at one of the dog cages and saw a woman, holding a small bundle close to her body. Passing Ramsay to Jon, Nick reached down and tore a ring of keys off of Ramsay's belt. Trying multiple different keys, he found the right one and pulled the lock and chains off. Leaning down, he reached out and ushered the woman out. Her eyes flickered over to Ramsay, watching as he was unceremoniously shoved in the cage and locked. Nick tossed the keys to Jon, who locked Ramsay away. Nick looked at the woman, asking her who she was.

"I am Walda Bolton, w-wife of Roose Bolton," The woman said, shivering in the cold. She was wrapped in only light clothing, with the only furs she had being wrapped around the bundle. "This is our son, born just before Ramsay locked us away in there. Please, he needs warmth."

"This way, my lady. Let's get you, and the child, warmed up." Nick led the woman into the Great Hall, walking past guardsmen that had gone to their posts. There was already a fire burning warmly, and Nick left the two of them there, walking over to a small chest in the corner of the hall. It was hidden in the corner, next to a small fireplace that was already burning, trying to fight the cold out of the hall. Opening the chest, he pulled out several furs, warmed by their proximity to the fireplace. He walked back, handing them to Walda and putting them over her shoulders, before calling over the maester to look over the child. The maester tried to look at Nick's cheek, but Nick shooed him over to young child. He had been wounded before, and this one wasn't as bad as the two he had taken to the arm.

"Nice quarters for Ramsay," Sansa said, striding into the hall with Lady by her side. She was quickly followed by the rest of the Starks, wolves padding along. Sansa walked over to Nick, hugging him tightly before stepping back. "Thank you, Nick."

"You're my sister," Nick said, smiling at her. "You needed help. I answered your call."

"Nick!" Emma said, running up and taking his head in her hands, looking at the cut on his cheek. The blood had stopped flowing, but blood was streaked down his face. "What happened? Where is the maester?"

"Ramsay shot an arrow, missed the kill shot," Nick said, putting his hands on her wrists and pulling them down, before moving his hands to her waist and leaning closer to her. "I'm fine. It's just a flesh wound."

"I told you, you need to be more careful. You'll get killed!"

"I'll be fine. Where are the children?"

"They're with my handmaidens. I wanted to come in here first to make sure everything was safe."

"It is. Our soldiers have secured the castle. The last of the Bolton soldiers are being locked up now."

"Alright. I'll send word. Who is that over there, by the fire?"

"Walda Bolton. Roose's wife, with their son. We found them in kennels, starving and freezing. I'm unsure what to do with them, because of the offenses Roose and Ramsay made against the Starks. They were traitors, and will die as such. Yet Roose's wife and son committed no crime."

"I don't know, Nick." Emma said, look up at Nick and touching the cut. "You are the lord of the Starks."

"Nick!" Jon said, striding into the hall. "I'm calling all the lords and ladies to the hall. We need to speak on the revolt."

"Alright, Jon. I'll have the children brought sent to bed."

"One other thing. Several of the lords that fought with me would proclaim me as King in the North. I would offer you the position."

"Oh gods no. I went east to proclaim for Daenerys so I wouldn't have to be king. But I will serve as the Hand of the King, should that position need to be filled."

"I would gladly grant you that title, brother." Jon smiled, clapping him on the shoulder before walking away.

A half-hour later, Nick and Jon sat at the center of the table at the head of the Great Hall. Sansa, Arya, Rickon, Emma, and the children sat on either side of them, alll of them looking out over the hall. Ned Umber and Alys Karstark were the most prominent among the gathered lords, not because of their power, but because of what their fathers did. Smalljon Umber was being held prisoner, having been captured by the cavalry while he was leading the archers into battle. They were run down, and Smalljon had been knocked unconscious by a mace. Harald Karstark had been slain in battle, killed by arrow fire from Ramsay's own archers. Smalljon kneeled in the center of the halls, looking up at the Starks with anger in his eyes.

"Lord Umber," Jon said, looking down at the man. Looking around the room, Nick spotted an assembly of people. Wildlings and highborn lords were mixed together, all looking up at the Starks. "You have raised your banners in revolt, and they have been cut down. How do you answer for your crimes?"

"I will give you no answer, bastard." The Smalljon spit at the Starks, glaring at them. "You are a Snow, no true Stark."

"The answer me, traitor," Nick said, standing up. "You protected Ramsay, the man who assaulted my sister. Why?"

"Your bastard brother let wildlings south, to rape and pillage. And you would have me support him?"

"I would have you support my sister, a Stark of Winterfell. Not the upstart who killed my brother." Nick turned, walking down from the dias and stepping in front of Smalljon. He drew Ice from his back, stepping to the side and placing the sword on his enemy's neck. "I, Nicholas Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King, in the name of King Jon Snow, sentence you to die. Do you have any final words?"

"Fuck you, Stark." As Smalljon ended, Nick raised the sword high above his head before swinging it down and slicing through the man's neck in a single blow. Drawing the blade back, he pulled a rag out and cleaned the blood from the blade.

"Ned Umber, Alys Karstark, step forward." Jon called out, watching the two children closely. Both stepped forwards bravely, with Ned looking at his father once before facing back at Jon. "Swear fealty to me, and do it now. I hold neither of you responsible for your father's crimes, but I will need your loyalty if you wish to hold you house's homes."

Both looked over at Nick, seeing him standing there with the sword, his hands resting threateningly on the hilt. They looked back at Jon, fear in their eyes, yet they recited the oath of fealty. Once they were finished, they walked back to their places, sitting quietly. Jon watched them as they walked away, but he was glad he made the decision he had made. The Umbers and Karstarks were old houses, and one breaking of faith would not be the sole reason that they died off.

"Lord Baelish," Jon said, calling the man forward. Littlefinger walked up, bowing to Jon and the Starks. "My sister has told me you rode to her aid, to help our cause. Is this true?"

"It is, my lord." As Littlefinger spoke, no one noticed Arya slip silently out of her chair, walking quietly over so she was positioned near Littlefinger.

"And is it also true that you, Lord Petyr Baelish, killed my father at King's Landing and my Aunt in the Vale?" Nick said, turning to face Petyr

"My lord?" He said, backing away. Two knights of the Vale tried to move, but Tormund put his axes up, blocking them from advancing. Petyr reached for his sword, but Arya jabbed out with Needle, stabbing him in the gut and sending him to the ground. As she twirled the blade out, Nick brought Ice up into the air before slashing down, cutting Petyr's head clean off. Nick watched as he fell to the ground, forming a pool of blood on the ground.

After that, Nick and Arya went back to the table, cleaning their swords. Jon gave some speech, which ended with the hall calling out 'The King in the North!' Lady Mormont had led the call, followed by the rest of the assembled nobility. Finally, once the clamor had died down, Nick and Emma managed to sneak off to Nick's old room.

"It looks exactly the same," Nick said, smiling. He put his arm around Emma's waist, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. She smiled, turning her head to face him and kissing him on the lips. "There is just a few things that are different." As he said this, he lifted her up, kissing her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He reached behind with one hand, pulling the door shut behind him and closing it.


End file.
